


Dream a Little Dream

by nakatas_cat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angst, Blow Jobs, Derek is a Failwolf, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, First Time, Insecure Derek, Jealous Derek, Knotting, M/M, Mates, Minor Suicidal Thoughts, Oblivious Stiles, Panic Attacks, Sort of Somnophilia, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Telepathic Bond, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakatas_cat/pseuds/nakatas_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For months, Stiles has been dreaming of a mysterious, hot guy sexing him up only to wake up to his dog beside him rather than his lover the next morning. Tonight's no different. Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [tealeaf523](http://tealeaf523.livejournal.com/). Thanks a lot! You did a wonderful job!
> 
> Please see end notes about the dubious consent warning.

Hot breath tickled his neck, the only warning he got before strong teeth bit down on the sensitive flesh at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The pleasure-pain flaring through Stiles' whole body made him tremble and his toes curl. There was no question _whose_ teeth were slowly but surely driving him insane, _who_ knew how to push his buttons like no one else.

"Hello again," Stiles breathed. He wasn't shy; he was quite the opposite actually, never shutting up, what with the lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. Somehow, though, he became much more self-aware whenever this mystery guy pressed his ripped body against Stiles' back.

Maybe it was the licking and the sucking, or the strong arms wrapped around him, or the big hard length rubbing against his ass that made him so self-conscious.

Maybe it was the being a complete virgin, who dreamed of the steamiest sex imaginable with a very demanding, hot guy while sleeping next to his dog thing. Who knew? And who cared when said licking and sucking left him with mushy peas in place of a brain.

"You taste so fucking good." The man's voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Even though the dream had barely begun Stiles was already a goner, more turned on than he ever had been in his waking moments. He wiggled, trying to turn around in the strong embrace but the man's grasp just tightened.

"No," mystery guy growled in warning, teeth sinking into Stiles' neck again to hold him in place.

"Oh, come on! I want to see you," Stiles whined, but knew he didn't stand a chance against the strength and will of this dream guy. And what exactly did that say about him - that he liked to be dominated and manhandled?

"Maybe next time... if you're a good boy tonight."

Suddenly, the man pushed and pulled him until his cock slipped between Stiles' ass cheeks, making Stiles' hole twitch in anticipation. Well, what was wrong with being a sucker for being dominated and manhandled? Ha, a sucker. Sucking his lover's cock. Stiles could definitely get behind that.

Thing was, said lover seemed to have plans other than letting Stiles turn and wrap his lips around what had to be a pretty well-proportioned dick. Stiles' clue was when the man behind him started sliding his cock along Stiles' hole, precum making his movements that much slicker, and better.

"You ready for it?"

Stiles could only nod frantically because Jesus, was he ready for it! He should've known better, though, when nothing happened - like literally nothing - no movement whatsoever.

And hey, how unfair was that!?! This was _Stiles'_ dream, for Christ's sake! _He_ decided when he got fucked!

Again, dream guy obviously didn't agree with him on that. "Say it!" his lover growled. "Say what you want and maybe I'll give it to you."

Stiles groaned in frustration. So far, in every wet dream of the last couple of months - which all had starred mystery guy as leading actor next to himself - the man had demanded that Stiles be vocal about what he wanted. And thinking back to the whole virgin in real life deal who, okay, watched his fair share of porn - he was a teenager, thank you very much - there was still the problem that he was somewhat bashful around his dream man.

'Jeez, get a grip, Stiles! This is a dream! No one'll know if you practice your dirty talk skills with ridiculously hot lover boy here. Who, just a quick reminder, doesn't even _exist_ outside of your dreamscape!'

"Fuck me! Shove your cock inside me until I can feel it in my throat!"

When a low almost animal like growl rang out next to his ear Stiles would have loved to do a little victory dance. Score!

"As you wish. If this was real, you'd be feeling me for days."

For a split second, Stiles wondered how this imaginary guy who starred in all of his X-rated dreams could know that this was just a dream. But then, the man sank into him and all thoughts flew out the window. Or wherever else thoughts went when they were fucked out of your brain.

The man didn't give him time to adjust at all, just started thrusting into him in earnest, and Stiles really didn't need it. God, he loved his dreams!

Stiles moaned loudly when his lover twisted and pulled on his nipples - another button of his alongside praises of what a good boy he was, how very fuckable and pliant he was, which made him tremble and push back into each stroke with fervor, trying to give as good as he got. It was so good, the hard length inside him pounding into his prostate time and time again. He knew he wouldn't last much longer.

The hot mouth that had been busy muttering filth into his neck in between licking and nipping and nuzzling moved up to his ear, biting into the fleshy lobe before mumbling, "I'm gonna knot you now, baby. Make you feel so good."

Stiles gasped. _Knot_ him? As in _knot him_ , knot him? What the fuck?

Just when he started to think that now would maybe be a good time to wake up he felt a persistent push against his rim at every stroke of his - crazy? - dream lover.

"Relax. You'll love it."

Somehow, Stiles calmed down. Dream guy kind of always had that effect on him. Stiles trusted him. Dream guy always made him feel good.

Then, on the next push, the knot slipped inside, locking the man inside his hole, and Stiles went wild.

The constant pressure on his prostate made him thrash around, panting and moaning as if his life depended on it. Nothing, not a single thing, had ever felt better. Judging from the deep grunts and groans behind him, mystery guy approved as well.

"Good boy! Such a good boy! Gonna fill you up now. You want that, huh?"

"Yes! Yes, fill me up! Make me come!" Stiles whined, totally gone in the pleasure his dream man was bestowing on him.

"Come, Stiles! Come, now!"

Suddenly, Stiles felt a bite on his neck and he screamed, coming in hot spurts all over his stomach without ever being touched. He was still shaking with the intensity of his orgasm when the man behind him stiffened, calling something that sounded a lot like "Mate!" as pulse after pulse of hot come shot into Stiles. The sensation sent sparks flying through him, making his dick twitch out one last rope of come.

Sweet Mother Mary! Best. Orgasm. Ever. Even if he was just dreaming it. Didn't matter. It felt real, and he'd definitely wake up to soiled and sticky boxers in the morning. Yuck. Still, totally worth it. He'd _so_ insist on knotting every time they fucked from then on.

Who'd have thought that it would be so good! He hadn't even known about knotting until just recently when he'd done some research on dogs after a very insistent specimen had shown up on his back porch again and again until he'd finally wormed his way into Stiles' heart and bed. Even though he'd read about it rather accidentally after stumbling upon it - how fucked up was it that he dreamed of it now, of _being_ knotted, to cap it all off?

Ah, well, there were weirder kinks in the world, Stiles figured. And hey, he couldn't really be held responsible for his dreams now, could he?

Dream guy's cock was still locked inside Stiles' ass, spurting another round of come into him. Stiles grinned when he felt the man shiver.

"I'm a sex god," Stiles couldn't bite back, a smug grin on his face.

The eye roll was pretty much audible in the man's tone. "Shut up, Stiles, and sleep."

Closing his eyes, still sporting a smile, Stiles thought that it took his kinky subconscious to make him realize what he longed for the most. It wasn't the knotting in particular either, though that was definitely a bonus. No, it was the whole package that he longed for. Dream guy.

Fuck! Only he could be so stupid to fall for a figment of his own imagination!

Stiles sighed somewhat resignedly and decided to just relish the sleepy caresses of the man's big hands and the intimate connection that they still shared. The last thought before slipped away was how he wished that he'd wake up next to this man.

When Derek woke up, his muzzle was shoved into Stiles' neck, the skin there damp from his panting. His canine body was wrapped around the human as tight as possible. He went through a quick inspection of his state and was relieved to find he hadn't come in his sleep. It was one thing to be forced to be celibate around his mate and have a bad case of blue balls. But, it was another thing altogether to scare his human away by ejaculating dog spunk all over his back.

Besides, it wasn't as if he hadn't enjoyed their little dream session even without getting off physically. The mental climax had totally made up for it.

Tonight had been even better than usual. All of their dreams were hot and deeply satisfying. _He_ was the one who created them after all. But, tonight's decision to finally introduce his boy to the miracle of knotting had probably been the best idea of Derek's life.

It all came down to Stiles in the end, always had. His reaction, his response was all that counted.

When Derek had first set eyes on the hyperactive kid roaming the woods with his friend he'd known that Stiles was it. The one. Fast forward through a couple of weeks of consequently stalking Stiles, and Derek had finally found himself in the place he wanted to be: his mate's house and bed.

Not even looking like a wolf - he was a were _wolf_ , after all, not a were _dog_ \- had stopped him from getting what he wanted. Stiles wasn't stupid; far from it. He'd known that Derek wasn't a dog, but Derek had done everything to persuade Stiles of his harmlessness and his domestic behaviors.

Good thing nobody had been a threat for his mate so far or harmlessness would have been the last thing on Derek's mind.

It seemed that Stiles for his part had decided at some point to just ignore the fact that his new friend was a wolf. He'd started calling Derek "Dog", plain and simple, explaining to everyone who did and didn't want to know that Derek was just that, a dog, not a wolf or any other dangerous wild animal. Derek had only huffed after Stiles' first nervous justification and had been playing his role ever since.

At first, Derek had thought that just being close to his mate would suffice for now. But then their bond had formed, faster than Derek had anticipated, and he'd suddenly found himself in one of Stiles' dreams that had somehow resulted in an irrational jealousy of curly fries and their first dream make-out session.

Over the months, Derek had become a frequent visitor of Stiles' dreams. It was something he just couldn't deny himself. He craved to be close to his mate in any way or form possible, the unusually strong bond dictating their mental connection in their sleep. It was virtually impossible to resist the pull of the boy's mind when they were asleep because Derek didn't give in to the desire to invade his mate's mind without his consent while they were awake. That way at least, they both didn't have to suffer from telepathic separation but could enjoy their connection.

Derek just hoped Stiles would be able to appreciate that Derek forbade himself to penetrate his mate's private sphere, his thoughts, more severely, even though he was desperate to do it.

It was still too early, though. His mate wasn't ready yet for this kind of connection, for the big reveal, but Derek would continue to prepare him in their dreams.

Tonight had been a big step. Stiles had surprised him when he had taken the knotting as if he was born for it, loving it even, after only a short freak-out. Derek had slipped in his ecstasy and called him 'mate' but fortunately, his ever-curious human hadn't questioned it. This was a hurdle they'd clear another night.

Just as they would tackle the whole being telepathically bonded to a werewolf thing later on. It was a painfully slow build-up, but Derek knew it was worth it, knew it was the best way. He'd heard of others who'd totally overwhelmed their human partners by just dumping everything on them the minute they had found them. Derek had sworn to himself he wouldn't repeat their mistakes if he happened to have a human mate. He also wouldn't play games with his mate by meeting him as a human, pretending he didn't know Stiles, his traits and quirks and moans when Derek devoured him in their dreams.

No, he'd make his mate understand and fall in love with his wolf side when awake and with his human side while asleep before revealing himself and the complex nature of their relationship.

Maybe next time, he'd finally get over the ridiculous fear of not being Stiles' 'type' enough to let the boy see him in their dream. Maybe he'd tell him a little story in between their love-making about two souls that belonged together, no matter what form they took.

Maybe in the not too distant future, Derek would be able to hold Stiles in his arms in reality instead of in their dreams, and would be able to cherish and protect him just like a good mate should.

Nuzzling contentedly into the pale neck in front of him, Derek fell asleep again, surrounded by the delectable scent of his mate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By general request, I decided to write more since technically Stiles & Derek aren't really together yet. Quite a bit of angst crept into this part, so be warned.
> 
> Betaed by [el-gilliath](http://el-gilliath.livejournal.com/). Thank you so much for stepping in!

"Derek."

"Hm?"

"My name is Derek."

Stiles blinked. He was still a little dazed after his orgasm just a minute ago and he could still feel his mystery lover locked deep inside him, filling him. It was the third time that the man knotted him and Stiles still had no clue what his dream guy looked like.

To say it came as a surprise when the man told him his name was an understatement. Stiles had grown tired of calling him 'mystery lover' or 'dream guy' or whatever else in his head. He could've given the man a name himself, what with this being _his_ dream. But somehow he hadn't. It hadn't felt right.

How his subconscious came up with 'Derek', however, he had no idea. He didn't know anyone with this name which was probably a blessing. It would've been awkward if his mind had used the name of someone he knew for the guy he fucked with in his dreams.

Maybe he'd read the name somewhere. Yeah, that made sense. It didn't really matter, anyway. All that mattered was the fact that he now had a name he could shout when they had sex.

"Nice to meet you, Derek," Stiles spoke quietly, smiling softly to himself. It felt good, saying the man's name, right somehow. It felt like it fit this dominating guy that did things to his body that he could only dream of, literally. His subconscious had chosen well. It could've named him 'Arnold' or 'McGuyver'. Scary, but sometimes - read: most of the time - his mind just worked like this. So, Stiles could really be proud of it this time. 'Derek' was definitely the better choice, the best choice.

Derek just grunted in response, tightening his hold on Stiles even more. It wasn't stifling, though. It was kinda nice to be held this closely, his back pressed against a hot chest, still connected. It made Stiles feel like nobody could hurt him here, like he was safe from everything evil in the world.

As so often, he just wished he could have this in the waking world, too.

Stiles was waiting for the dream to fade to black as it always did when they were lying intertwined in post-coital bliss when the man's voice rang out again.

"What we have is special, Stiles. _You_ , you're special."

Stiles swallowed hard and made a non-committal noise. Derek sounded so reverent, so sincere. It hurt because it was exactly what Stiles wanted someone say to him when he wasn't dreaming. He didn't understand why his subconscious would hurt him like that.

Closing his eyes firmly, Stiles just wished for the dream to end. He knew he'd feel even more lonely in the morning than usually after one of his dreams with Derek.

When the dream finally slipped away Stiles was relieved. Before it sank into darkness completely he could hear Derek say, "You're everything, Stiles. I'll show you. Just you wait."

 

Derek was an idiot. An idiot and a coward. He could see the loneliness in Stiles' eyes during the day, could feel it when he snuggled up to Derek's furry body in the night before they fell asleep. His mate could sense that something was missing, not quite right, even though the sensation was just subliminal.

Stiles didn't know about mates, about bonding, about its intensity and repercussions. He didn't know that his mind and body craved to be bonded to Derek completely. They were already past the initial stages of the bond, could enter each other's dreams and minds if they wanted to. The full bond, though, would be much stronger. Right now, they could probably only get vague thoughts and images through their telepathic connection. Dreams were something different. While asleep, their minds were the most vulnerable, the most open. All their barriers, even the subconscious ones, were down, allowing their minds to mingle.

Once they were fully bonded, they'd need to touch each other's minds regularly to avoid telepathic separation. Even in this early stage, not giving in to their mental pull towards one another would result in a mild form of telepathic separation though it would most likely only be some bad headaches and probably anxiety. In a fully bonded pair, though, being out of mental touch for too long could lead to one or, in the worst case, both of them entering a catatonic state that they'd only be able to get out of with the help of their mate and a long telepathic fusion.

This rarely happened, though, as far as Derek knew. The upsides definitely outweighed the downsides. Not everyone's mate was also their soulmate since there were several people who were compatible to a werewolf as a mate, who the wolf would accept. But there was only one who man and wolf would be able to form a mental connection with.

Derek's parents were soulbonded mates. They were stupidly happy and seemed to love each other more with every passing day. Derek could count the times he'd seen them argue on one hand. They always seemed so in tune with each other, a product of their intimate psychic connection. They could hold a whole conversation telepathically.

Derek had always wanted this kind of connection and closeness to another person, too. He'd once met another werewolf who his wolf recognized as a potential mate. Even though she had pursued him, Derek had refused to mate with her because he'd known that she wasn't his soulmate. He'd decided to wait for the one.

At the first glance of Stiles Derek had known that the wait was over.

So far, though, he was doing a bad job of wooing his mate. Stiles didn't understand what his mind and body needed and missed. It was only natural that his confusion led to Stiles feeling lonely.

Derek tried his best to alleviate it. He showered his mate in attention and affection in his wolf form. He'd nudge him and persuade him to play whenever Stiles got that faraway look in his eyes. Or he'd jump up, paws on Stiles' chest, to lick his face and nuzzle his neck. Usually, Stiles would relax and laugh at his antics and forget about his problems for awhile.

Derek was aware, though, that the only real cure for Stiles' loneliness was the completion of their bond. And for that, Stiles needed to consent. And for that, Derek needed to get over his own anxieties and let Stiles in on what was going on with him, with them.

It was their second dream after Derek had told Stiles his name - which had led to some awesome sex the night after with Stiles shouting Derek's name as he had climaxed - when Derek figured he finally had to pull himself together and show himself to Stiles.

When the dream began to form around them they sat in a meadow, Derek behind Stiles with his arms around the human, both clothed. Most often, Derek would dream them on Stiles' bed, naked, though sometimes he liked to spice things up and have Stiles against a wall or bend over the couch in the living room. Never before had they been outside of Stiles' house, though, in their dreamscape.

Derek thought it was appropriate for tonight. It was time for the next step, make Stiles fall in love with his human side, and therefore he had to win him over with more than just sex.

It didn't take long for Stiles to notice the change of scenery. He started squirming in Derek's embrace, obviously confused.

"Derek?"

Taking a deep breath, Derek let go of Stiles and waited for the boy to turn around. He didn't have to wait long.

Big brown eyes roamed over Derek, trailing his face and body up and down before they finally settled on Derek's face.

"Derek? Is that you?" Stiles all but whispered, lifting his hand as if to touch Derek's cheek but stopping just short of meeting his skin with the tip of his fingers.

Derek nodded curtly. He didn't know what to make of Stiles' reaction. Thankfully, his mate didn't leave him in the dark much longer.

"Wow. You look like a Greek God or something," Stiles mumbled more or less to himself.

Derek could feel his face flush and his heart skip a beat before continuing in a much quicker pace. He would have been embarrassed for blushing like a little girl if the relief and joy flooding through him hadn't been so all-encompassing.

Shaking himself, Stiles suddenly leapt into action and right into Derek's lap, grabbing Derek's face in both hands and kissing him like there was no tomorrow. For a second, Derek was too startled to react but he got with the program quickly, taking control over the kiss and slowing it down. This was their first kiss. It shouldn't be hurried or frenzied. Derek wanted do indulge in it, in Stiles and his unique taste.

They kissed for what felt like hours. With a deep sigh, Derek finally broke it, pressing his forehead to his mate's. They were both breathing a little quicker, hot puffs of air coming from Stiles' parted, swollen lips and caressing Derek's face. It made him want to dive right back in and continue where they had left off but Derek had something else planned for tonight.

"Hi Stiles," he said in a low gravelly voice. "How are you?"

As if his words had been some kind of trigger, Stiles suddenly pulled away, staring at him with wide eyes. "Small talk? _Now_ you want to make small talk? Now that I finally get to see you and can barely keep my hands off of you because you're so freakin' hot?"

Stiles' arms were flailing about wildly in indignation.

Derek felt a jolt when he heard once more that his mate obviously seemed to like what he could see. Smiling, now that one of his worries had been quashed, Derek simply shrugged in answer. While he didn't want to make small talk in particular, he definitely wanted to talk. It was necessary to make Stiles see. He just really wasn't a conversationalist and hadn't known how else to begin.

"But I'd rather roll around the meadow with you and suck you and ride you while you knot me now that I can look at you."

Derek groaned, hiding his face in his mate's neck. Stiles had come a long way from being rather self-conscious to being his usual, sometimes a little annoying self around him. The pictures that Stiles' words had planted into his brain almost made him discard his original plan. Then, he remembered the lost and longing look in Stiles' eyes when they were awake and he knew what he had to do.

Lifting his head, Derek gazed deep into his eyes. "I want to talk to you, get to know you, have you get to know me."

Stiles looked baffled. "But... why? You're not even a real person. You're just a figment of my imagination."

It stung even though Derek was well aware that Stiles simply didn't know better.

"I'm so much more than that," he spoke gravely with his hands on both sides of his mate's face, willing Stiles to hear the truth in his words.

For ages, they just stared into each other's eyes, neither of them saying a word.

Stiles was the one breaking the silence. "What are you then, Derek?" he asked quietly, his pertness from before gone.

"I'm everything you want me to be," Derek answered steadily and without hesitation, a simple answer because it was the truth. He would be everything Stiles wanted him to be. He would be his friend, his lover, his mate, his soulmate, his _everything_ if Stiles let him. If not, if Stiles did _not_ want him, then he'd leave even if it would break his heart and destroy every chance of happiness for him. It was possible to let go of your soulmate if you hadn't formed a full bond already. They'd both suffer from a light form of telepathic separation but it would subside with time, especially for Stiles.

Stiles as a human would probably be fine after a while. He'd be able to fall in love with someone else and get on with his life.

Derek, however, was a different story. He'd always feel as if one part of his soul was missing. His wolf would never accept anyone else as his mate now that he'd had a taste of his one true mate. Derek would be forced to lead a lonely life, longing for Stiles.

It felt like time stood still as Derek awaited Stiles' next words. When they finally came it caused another sting in his heart.

"Just hold me," Stiles spoke under his breath, gaze turned downward into his own lap. "I just want you to hold me tonight."

Stiles looked like a little boy who was desperate for affection, for love. For all Derek knew, he was. Stiles only had his dad and his friend, Scott, but neither of them could give the boy the affection that he needed, now more than ever with his soul noticing Derek, his soulmate, close by. Not even Derek in his wolf form was enough to quench Stiles' desire because it was a human's touch that he craved.

In their dreams, however, Derek could and would give him everything he needed. It was a poor substitute for the real thing but hopefully Stiles would take everything that Derek still had to tell him well. Then, nothing would stand in the way of them having this in reality as well.

He pulled Stiles closer and wrapped his arms around him, laying his head on top of the boy's short hair and caressing his back and sides in soothing motions. The little sigh that left Stiles' mouth as he tugged his face into Derek's neck let Derek know that he was doing the right thing by forgoing his plan of talking in favor of being what his mate needed him to be right now, someone to hold and love him.

They sat like that for the reminder of their dream which ended only with the ringing of Stiles' alarm. There'd be another night, the next night, to speak with Stiles, Derek thought as he, lazily stretching his furry body, watched Stiles hopping out of bed and getting ready for school from his position on the bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, I won't leave it at that. That'd be just cruel, now, wouldn't it? ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for vanishing off the face of the earth for so long. RL was a bitch but I finally got a break to continue.
> 
> This chapter is only Stiles' POV. The next will be Derek's and is pretty much finished so you won't have to wait that long for the next part. :)
> 
> Betaed by [el-gilliath](http://el-gilliath.livejournal.com/) once more. Thanks a bunch! <3

The thing about Stiles' dreams was that he never knew when he'd next dream about Derek. So, maybe that was a given since dreams didn't really come with a weekly program like TV shows. Anyways, Stiles found himself both relieved and disappointed after nights that didn't star Derek. The disappointment usually prevailed and he started to wonder if he had a masochistic streak or something that he was looking forward to feeling like shit after spending hours in his dreamscape with a man he could never hope to meet in reality.

Their last dream had been different, very much so actually. He'd taken the different setting in stride - no harm in spicing things up even if spicier wasn't really required - but everything that had followed? Yeah, came a bit as a surprise to Stiles. Because, seriously, nothing could have prepared him for how incredibly sophisticated his imagination was regarding his dream man.

Derek looked as if he'd just climbed out of the cover of a GQ magazine - thick dark hair, high cheekbones, a mouth to die for and the most mesmerizing and indescribable eyes that Stiles had ever had the pleasure to look into. The rest of the man had been covered in clothes so Stiles couldn't really form an opinion on those parts but from what he'd felt over all those nights and from what he could see Derek was built and ripped. Jeez, for all he knew the man probably even had a perfect elbow.

So, all in all, it was really just natural that Stiles had tried to jump him then and there. Which was when everything had taken a turn into an even more different and weirder direction.

Derek had wanted to talk.

Stiles had thought he was in the wrong movie. Or dream, strictly speaking. Seriously, you couldn't just dangle a carrot in front of him and then withhold it from it. Not that he particularly liked carrots. Which was to say he really didn't like carrots at all even though he made his dad eat them all the time because apparently they were healthy and good for your eyes and whatnot.

Anyways, not the point. The point was that Derek had wanted to talk while Stiles had wanted to hump the ridiculously hot man his fantasy had given him as an early Christmas present.

He still wasn't quite sure how the dream had then turned into an extensive cuddling session with himself being all emotional and Derek being more or less empathic.

The next morning, Stiles had almost overslept because he just hadn't wanted to wake up and leave the comfort of Derek's arms. It had helped that he had to rush through his morning routine to get to school on time but sitting in class that day, having way too much time to ponder - or rather to lose himself in daydreams - hadn't helped his overall mood. Not even Scott had been able to coax a smile out of him.

What had accomplished that in the end had actually been his dog, happily chewing away on his dad's Jesus sandals that his dad loved to wear in his free time and that Stiles absolutely despised. He'd even tried to sneakily dispose of them - because, honestly, Stiles was just worried about his dad's reputation and Jesus sandals didn't really earn the big bad Sheriff any points in coolness - but, of course, his dad had caught him red-handed. Let's just say the Sheriff hadn't been amused.

Stiles, however, had been very amused when he found his dog achieving what he couldn't. One of the ridiculous things that, in Stiles' book, shouldn't even be called shoes in the first place, had already been completely demolished, bits and pieces lying everywhere, by the time Stiles had come home. The other one had been on the best way to join its companion but had still been recognizable as probably his dad's ugliest possession.

Seriously, his dog could be an asshole at times, destroying everything that wasn't nailed down - like the shirt Scott had borrowed the last time he'd slept over and that Stiles hadn't put away immediately after getting it back which had resulted in one perfectly fine shirt being torn into shreds by a dog on a killing spree. As annoying as it sometimes was, Stiles couldn't help but completely adore his dog for ending the much hated Jesus sandals. Stiles had praised him with pats and beef jerky.

He'd spent the rest of the day doing his homework, preparing dinner - a healthy vegetable pie he'd found on his favorite cooking website -, eating with his dad - who'd complained a bit about the lack of anything meaty - and surfing the web before collapsing into bed with his dog. Stroking gently over his furry friend's back while enjoying the warm tongue lapping at his neck more than he'd ever admit, Stiles wondered what tonight's dream would bring.

In equal parts anticipation and apprehension, he closed his eyes and opened them again to find himself in the woods, more precisely sitting on a fallen tree. He could sense Derek's body next to his, not touching but close enough to feel the man's body heat.

If there was any pattern to his dreams, then them being outside instead of in Stiles' house meant that it was a Derek-wants-to-talk dream rather than a sexy times dream.

Sure enough, Derek then began their interaction with a "Hello, Stiles" and not with something physical.

Stiles wasn't sure if that was what he wanted tonight.

Turning sideways, he shamelessly soaked in the sight in front of him. Derek was one fine specimen alright. Stiles felt his mouth water with the burning desire to lick every last inch of the man's body.

No, he definitely didn't want to talk tonight. He had so many better ideas than to ruin their limited time with words and emotions and all that crap.

Without much fuss, Stiles slid to his knees and pushed Derek's legs apart to crawl between them. Looking up at the man, he saw Derek's eyes widen at Stiles's actions.

"What are you doing, Stiles?"

The teenager smirked. "What I should've done yesterday already."

Deft fingers opened the older man's jeans before simply slipping inside the underwear and pulling out a still flaccid but already rather impressive cock. Stiles licked his lips at the sight and couldn't wait to get started but a hand on his chin forced him to meet Derek's questioning gaze.

"Stiles..."

"Please," Stiles interrupted, not above begging to get what he wanted, "just let me. Please, Derek."

Stiles would never know if it was something in his eyes or the man's name passing his lips that finally got him a nod.

Immediately, Stiles bent forward and took the soft flesh into his mouth, sucking on it like it was his favorite sweet. It didn't take long at all before it began to harden and grow on his tongue. It was a heady feeling to know that he could get his dream man this worked up so quickly which was only made sweeter by the quiet groans that started the second Stiles' mouth was wrapped around Derek's cock.

Before long, the dick in his mouth was too long and big to fit into his mouth completely. With an obscene noise, Stiles pulled off of Derek's dick to admire the fully hardened length for a moment before he took the tip in again and suckled on it happily. While one of Stiles' hands was braced against Derek's jeans-clad knee, the other sneaked upwards to jerk the base of Derek's cock that Stiles couldn't get into his mouth.

A loud moan made Stiles look up to Derek's stupidly perfect face. Stiles loved to see his dream guy so open, mouth parted and panting, arousal red on his high cheekbones, eyes glazed over and pupils blown wide.

"Stiles, your mouth." Derek's voice sounded wrecked and Stiles felt immensely proud to be the cause.

Warm fingers slid into his hair and held on to the back of his head but didn't try to control Stiles' rhythm in any way.

With one last lick to the especially sensitive spot just underneath the head of Derek's cock, Stiles pulled back and whispered in what he hoped was a seductive tone, "Come on then, Derek. Use it. Use my mouth."

He'd barely finished speaking when the loose grip of those big hands tightened and his head was being pushed forward. He quickly opened his mouth to accommodate Derek's glistening length once again and moaned when Derek started a fast rhythm, pulling Stiles deeper on his cock on every downward motion.

His own dick was hard and leaking into his boxer shorts but Stiles knew that if he so much as put a hand on himself, it'd be over in an instant. Instead, he focussed completely on the thick cock fucking his mouth and leaving wet salty precum on his tongue, glad that in his dream he apparently had no gag reflex.

All the while, Stiles kept his half-lidded eyes on Derek's face, even more gorgeous flushed red with arousal. He found it insanely hot how Derek couldn't help but watch his own cock disappear between Stiles' wet lips again and again.

He felt his dream guy getting closer when Derek's rhythm started to get a little frantic and the heavy length became even bigger in his mouth. With just enough force to counter Derek's pushing and pulling, Stiles lifted his head enough to let Derek's cock slip out. He nuzzled his face along the sizable dick, smearing trails of precum on his cheeks and lips in the process.

With pleading eyes, he begged in a throaty voice, "Your knot, Derek. Want it, want your knot."

He watched, mesmerized, as Derek's eyes rolled back into his head with a deep groan before the man had himself under control again enough to grind out, "No."

Naturally, Stiles didn't just roll over and accept a simple no. Instead, he broke out his secret weapon once again, begging. "Please, Derek, please! Want to feel your knot stretch my mouth so bad."

Derek all but growled and shoved his cock in between Stiles' lax lips, setting a quick relentless pace as he fucked Stiles' face once more. Stiles complied willingly and welcomed the hot length being pushed down his throat mercilessly. God, how he loved it! Sucking Derek's dick or rather a face-fuck by Derek's dick was just as hot as he'd imagined.

Moments later, Stiles felt again how Derek neared the edge, cock growing heavier once again. He gave it everything, swallowing around the length and therefore making his throat as tight as possible to drive the man completely wild and get him to knot his mouth.

With an animalistic howl, Derek finally came, shooting come down his throat. The first taste of Derek's come was all it took for Stiles to orgasm as well. He moaned around Derek's still spurting cock, swallowing everything the man gave him, only vaguely disappointed that no knotting had happened. It was hard to muster the necessary indignation when he was still floating on a high from his climax and was still enjoying the feeling of Derek engulfed in his well-used mouth.

When Derek pulled out, Stiles couldn't help but whine at the loss. However, his complaining noises were swallowed by Derek's hungry mouth who'd quickly heaved Stiles up and maneuvered him onto his lap. Stiles gave as good as he got, sharing Derek's taste and biting his lover's lips in retaliation for withholding his knot.

"You are... incorrigible, baby," Derek mumbled between kisses.

Stiles just smirked against Derek's lips. "You wouldn't have me any other way."

With a somewhat resigned sigh, the man grumbled, "No, I really wouldn't."

Stiles' heart fluttered at the agreement and after one last lingering kiss, he burrowed his head into Derek's neck, breathing the man's scent of sweat and wood in deep. The hand on Stiles' lower back held him close to the bigger body in front of him while the other hand was still on the back of his head, lazily carding through his short hair.

"That still doesn't change the fact that we need to..."

"No!," Stiles butted in, not giving Derek the chance to finish his sentence. "No, please, Derek. Not tonight." With big pleading eyes, he looked up from where his head rested on a broad shoulder, hoping to convince Derek not to spoil this perfect moment and to just let them have this. He didn't want this night to end like the last and feel even more lonely the next day than usually.

The hesitation was clear in Derek's eyes but after a couple of seconds he simply nodded, pressing Stiles' head into his neck once more. Stiles guessed this was Derek's way of wordlessly telling him that he would grant Stiles' wish even though he was less than delighted with it. Stiles was well aware that it was bought time and that the inevitable was only postponed, not impeded.

Anyways, as long as he could end this night in peace and snuggled up to Derek's warm body, he knew he'd be okay enough for another day without this closeness in the waking world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally, I'd love to hear your thoughts. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's Derek's POV as promised. It's a bit longer than the other parts, maybe because there's talking at long last. ;) Hope you like it!
> 
> Betaed by [el-gilliath](http://el-gilliath.livejournal.com/) again. Thanks a lot!

To say that Derek was pissed at himself would be an understatement. Again, he'd caved in to Stiles' aversion to talk. One look at Stiles' big round hazel eyes and his pleading had been enough to coerce Derek to forget all about his long-term goal, to say nothing of the spectacular blow job.

Derek could well and truly admit that he turned into a big hand-tame puppy when it came to his mate - and his talented mouth in particular. The only thing the boy hadn't gotten was his knot that he'd begged for so prettily, mostly because Derek was still a little anxious that Stiles would be disgusted upon seeing the ball-shaped base of his dick that had tied them together several times already. It was most likely an irrational fear, considering the gusto with which Stiles had taken to Derek's knot in the first place. It was actually more likely that Stiles would be salivating over it once he got to have a glance at it. But still, Derek couldn't just turn his worries off. He'd never said he was the most rational of beings.

In the end, Derek spent the whole next day brooding quietly in a corner of Stiles' room, waiting for his mate's return from school. The sheriff hadn't been happy with Derek the day before after finding his horrid sandals in pieces so Derek had decided to lay low. Considering his mate's significantly better mood as compared to yesterday Derek didn't need to bring the big guns out to make Stiles smile. Instead, Derek could plan the whole day how best to convince his mate of the importance of getting to know each other to make Stiles see that Derek was good for something besides fucking - even if the fucking was pretty extraordinary.

When Stiles finally came home Derek had some kind of plan that he couldn't wait to set in motion when they were asleep.

Hours later, after playing tag with the boy and watching his mate go about his day, the time had come.

Derek had dreamed them on the rock shoulder in the woods overlooking all of Beacon Hills that he liked to frequent both in human and in wolf form, usually to ponder. Stiles was sitting between his legs, both of them facing the town below them. Derek's arms surrounded his mate, his chin resting on Stiles' shoulder.

"Hi Derek," Stiles said quietly and somewhat apprehensively. The smaller body tensed a bit in Derek's embrace upon truly realizing their situation. Apparently, Stiles had an inkling that tonight he wouldn't get the easy way out.

"You don't need to say a single word if you don't want to," Derek told the fraught boy in a low voice. "Just listen please, Stiles."

A few seconds ticked by before Stiles nodded curtly, body relaxing ever so slightly.

Derek took a deep breath, glad that his plan appeared to be working. Well, at least so far. He hoped that getting his mate to listen would turn out to be the hardest part. However, he was well aware that getting Stiles to believe in what Derek was about to tell him would be the real problem.

"At the beginning of all living things on earth, there was the maker's will to create two beings that complimented each other as perfectly as two of his former creations, the sun and the moon. This is how a being neither completely human nor completely animal came to be. The first two in creation were as devoted to each other as one can be and together they roamed and ruled the world. The maker was pleased that his two children were so very perfect for one another. However, he soon noticed that their dedication to each other made them blind to everything around them. Instead of flourishing and reproducing, plants and animals began to wither and die because those chosen to nourish and care for them were too occupied with one another. That caused the maker's wrath and in anger he decided to separate the two lovers never to be united again. However, the sun and the moon had taken to the two beings that had been designed after their image and pleaded with the maker to show mercy because while they could see the destruction the lovers' neglect had brought upon the earth they hadn't done it on purpose. Fortunately, the maker's wrath could be appeased. He still decided to separate them but this time with the possibility of the lovers finding each other again. By creating more beings, some human, some like the first two combining human and animal traits, he made the lovers' search for one another harder. The maker, as almighty as he is, is not cruel however. He was well aware of the fact that not all beings who complement each other, who are made for each other, would find one another in their lifetime. Therefore, he created those who share certain aspects and traits of those destined for another, making these beings possible partners albeit not perfect ones. A union of two beings that truly belong to one another is said to be rare but a matter of great joy. They have the most powerful of connections, a bond so deep it is as strong as the one from the first two, the purest, in existence."

Derek paused to think about how he wanted to tell Stiles the rest when his mate surprised him by inquiring, "So, by a being that combines human and animal traits, you mean, like, werewolves or what?"

Inhaling sharply at the unexpected question and trying to control his frantically beating heart, Derek berated himself for forgetting how quick-witted and smart his mate was. "Basically, yes," he replied after a beat. "Werewolves but also other werecreatures."

Stiles hummed, seemingly deep in thought.

Derek waited, giving his mate the time he needed to absorb what Derek had bestowed on him so far.

"Okay, so, werecreatures," Stiles mumbled after a while before visibly perking up when an idea struck him. "Oh, hey! Can they shift shapes? Like, from human to furry beast in the blink of an eye or something?"

Derek sighed a little at his mate's description. "Yes, they can shift shapes."

"By will or only at the full moon?" Stiles continued his bombardment of questions, his interest obviously piqued.

"By will," Derek grumbled, a little miffed about his mate's diversion from the actual topic. While discussing shape shifters and werewolves in particular was important, at the moment it was more essential that Stiles got the whole soulmate bonding concept and understood that they were meant to be. The rest, namely Stiles' acceptance of Derek's nature, would come with that particular realization, or so Derek hoped at least.

"Is that all you gathered from what I told you?" Derek asked as calmly as possible.

"Uhm, no," Stiles answered hesitantly. "You were talking about the maker, the sun and the moon and the maker's creations on earth."

Again, Derek heaved a sigh at hearing Stiles' rather shallow summary. "And about how two beings complement each other and can form a strong bond, a deep connection."

Derek watched as Stiles' head, still turned towards Beacon Hills, nodded. "Like soulmates."

A buzz went through Derek and before he could stop himself he half-shouted, "Exactly!"

At Derek's enthusiastic response, Stiles threw a questioning glance over his shoulder at a grinning Derek. "Right," he said slowly, his expression clearly indicating that he thought that Derek had probably lost his marbles. After a couple more seconds of scrutinizing Derek, Stiles turned around again and leant back against Derek's chest. "So, how does this whole soulmate thing work exactly? I mean how do you know you've found the one and not just one of the others that are okay but not really your soulmate?"

Finally, Stiles asked the right questions, Derek thought giddily. "As a werecreature you feel it. You just know."

"And as a human?"

Now came the more complicated part. "It's more difficult for a human to be sure because they lack the instincts of a shape shifter. If a human finds his soulmate in another human, they're usually pretty certain that they want to spend the rest of their lives together because they feel the connection on some basic level. If a human, however, meets one of the others that are suitable but not their soulmate they will always doubt their relationship and wonder if there isn't someone else out there who is more suited to them. They can lead a happy life together but the doubts will remain, if only subconsciously."

Stiles nodded again. "What if the human's soulmate is a shape shifter?"

And finally they've arrived at the really interesting part, the one that Derek couldn't screw up under any circumstances. Sorting his thoughts one last time, he launched into what probably counted as the most important explanation Derek ever had to give in his entire life. "A soulbond with a werecreature is deeper than one between two humans. The werecreature's supernatural nature and abilities span the gap if their soulmate is human and doesn't possess the same abilities to form a deep connection. The human is then able to feel the bond as strongly and consciously as their soulmate."

Stiles hummed contemplatively. "What if you end up stuck with someone you can't stand? If nature or the maker or fate or whatever are just some big assholes who like to screw you over?"

Derek snorted, involuntarily amused at how Stiles put it. "Trust me, that never happens. Remember the part where soulmates compliment each other, are perfect for one another?"

"Yeah," Stiles conceded.

On the spur of the moment, Derek decided to tell Stiles something personal rather than stay with probably too abstract concepts. "My parents are soulmates. They knew they were even before they really got to know each other. They fell in love with each other in the week after their first meeting and have had eyes only for one another since then. They love each other unconditionally. They're the happiest people I know."

Derek took a steadying breath, steeling himself to finally admit, "I want that, too."

A deep sigh was all that left Stiles' lips and Derek was about to call it a night, a little glum after spilling his guts before Stiles was apparently ready for it when the boy in his arms mumbled thoughtfully in a quiet tone, "It must be nice to be certain that the person you're with is the one for you."

It was like being struck by lightening, only in a positive sort of way, when Derek heard Stiles' silent concession. It made his body tingle to think that Stiles was maybe more open to the soulmate-for-life idea than Derek had dared to hope. If Derek wasn't totally mistaken it would seem as if his mate wasn't scared of the thought of being with one person for the rest of his life despite his young age. In Derek's book, this counted as a huge step forward regarding his plan to woo his mate. Hopefully, he'd get Stiles to like or even love Derek enough to realize that Derek was the one he wanted to spend his life with.

"Why are you telling me all this, Derek?"

Derek could hear the wariness in Stiles' voice and knew he had to tread carefully. "My mom used to tell me about the maker and soulmates when I was little. It's being passed on from generation to generation, she said. It was my favorite tale as a kid." The next words left his mouth before he could reign himself in, "But it's much more than just a tale."

Naturally, his curious mate couldn't leave it at that. Turning around to face Derek, he asked with a confused expression, "What do you mean?"

Derek wanted to hit himself on the head, hard. Why couldn't he have just bitten his tongue to not blurt out that last incredibly important bit? The one that he wanted to save for somewhen further down the line when Stiles would be ready for it?

Trying to come up with something that wouldn't totally scare his mate away, he settled on, "It's personal on more than one level. It's my parents' story. It's our story," he finished in a small voice and watched with a sinking heart as Stiles' eyes grew wide in disbelief.

"No!" Stiles countered vehemently, turning around completely and twisting out of Derek's embrace in the process. His arms flailed about widely. "This is just a dream, nothing more. There is no such thing as werewolves or shape shifters and soulmates in real life."

"Stiles, please calm down," Derek tried to placate his agitated mate, not quite sure why the boy reacted so strongly to Derek's last words.

Stiles, however, ignored Derek's attempt at appeasing completely and went on as if he'd never been interrupted, "You don't get to dangle this in front of my eyes. Nuh-uh, Mister. It's not nice to tell poor naive Stiles tales that he really wants to believe in..."

"But...," Derek butted in, his heart soaring at this opening that Stiles practically threw his way. He didn't get more in than that, though, because again Stiles decided to overlook Derek in favor of continuing his own rant.

"Because, seriously, I think it would be kinda awesome if there were, like, all these things you've told me about. Even though from what I've heard shape shifters are probably pretty dangerous what with the claws and sharp teeth and whatnot and maybe even like to maim and kill virgins. _But_ that aside, 'cause, no shit, there are enough _humans_ who like to maim and kill, you don't get to plant these fantastical theories and stories in my head and expect me to..."

Derek never heard what he should not expect from Stiles as in this moment his mate lost his balance from his excessive movements and toppled over the ledge. Derek surged forward to grab him but it was already too late and he was left watching in horror as Stiles fell further and further down towards the ground. Stiles' sharp scream pierced Derek's ears and was also the first thing he perceived when he woke up an instant later.

It was less than two seconds later that Stiles came to as well and his shouting stopped, heartbeat frantic and panicked after the horrific and rapid ending of their shared dream.

Derek whined and nuzzled his distressed mate's shoulder and chest, quietly pleading for forgiveness the best he could in his current state.

It didn't take long for Stiles to calm down and after a couple controlled breaths he noticed Derek's, his dog's, efforts. "It's okay, buddy. Just a bad dream," he mumbled shakingly, fingers buried in Derek's fur at his nape, staring into space.

It took Derek all he got not to wince at that, to turn human and apologize to his mate profoundly for going too far too soon. After all his carful planning the whole day, he had to admit that he'd screwed this up after all. Despite his plan seemingly working out well at the beginning, he'd kind of missed the point where he went a little overboard and overwhelmed his mate by his rash proceeding. He just hoped that he hadn't rendered all the progress they'd made tonight void by overshooting.

In the end, Stiles _had_ admitted that he'd like to believe in what Derek had told him but just couldn't. All Derek had to do now was to make Stiles believe and concurrently convince him of Derek's superb qualities as his soulmate.

Piece of cake, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear your opinion. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, chapter 5. I'm not gonna spoil it by saying anything. Hope you guys like it. :)
> 
> Once more betaed by [el-gilliath](http://el-gilliath.livejournal.com/). Thanks, hon!

After his dream ended in an unintended dive from the ledge of a rock shoulder and him waking up screaming like a little girl, Stiles didn't want to go back to sleep. It was almost time to get up anyway.

He cuddled with his dog who happened to be the best non-pharmaceutical tranquilizer and mood elevator in one while waiting for his alarm to bid the new day a blaring welcome. When the much hated sound finally came he quickly got up and got ready for school which included both breakfast for him and his dog. His father was at work already.

The whole time, his dog was at his heels, butting his calves and whining for his attention. His canine friend obviously noticed that something wasn't quite right.

Stiles bent down and framed his dogs sad looking face in his hands. "When I'm back from school we'll have a nice long cuddling session, you and me, whaddaya say, buddy?"

His dog woofed once with what Stiles could only call a solemn face if that was even possible for an animal. It made Stiles chuckle nonetheless to think of his dog expressing human emotions. "You're the best dog ever, dude," he said and threw his arms around his dog's neck to squeeze him tight. For a moment, he was overwhelmed with the rush of warmth, adoration and gratefulness he felt for this animal for picking up on his moods so easily and always trying to make things better. It was kind of bizarre, actually, how attuned his dog was to Stiles, but hey, he sure as hell wasn't going to complain.

"Love you," Stiles spoke softly into his dog's soft fur and gave him a peck just above his wet nose before he patted his flank one last time and got back up. "See you later, buddy!"

With that, he was out the door and out of the house only a few seconds later.

It was when he had time to think about last night's dream - on the drive to school, during Chemistry while ignoring Harris' dirty looks - that the unease and shakiness his dog had succeeded to dispel for a little while crept back in. He figured that maybe it'd help to talk about it to someone. Said someone would, of course, be Scott who dumped enough crap about Allison and her utter perfection on Stiles on a daily basis to warrant years of Stiles' problems being unloaded on his dark-haired best friend.

For this reason, Stiles felt totally justified when he broke in on Scott's puppy lovey-dovey swooning over Allison's feet or something else equally ridiculous on their way to their lockers during lunch break and blurted, "I think I might have a teeny-weeny crush on a guy I keep dreaming about."

Instead of stopping right in the middle of the corridor as Stiles had anticipated, Scott just kept on walking. "So?" He asked as if Stiles hadn't just poured his heart out to him.

"So?" Stiles mimicked, more than just a little shell-shocked about Scott's unfazed reaction. "So? Was it the fact that it's a _guy_ or the fact that it's a guy I _dream_ about that _didn't_ surprise you?"

The smirk on Scott's face made Stiles even more furious. "I was always wondering about your preference when you kept asking Danny if he found you attractive. And, well, you've had your head somewhere else for quite awhile now. Just last week I caught you doodling little Dereks all over your notepad. Guess that's the guy you dream about?"

Okay, so, Stiles' eyes that were currently busy trying to pop out of their sockets were probably a pretty valid testament as to how much Scott had just blown his mind. Seriously, the guy was as dense as a rainforest most of the time. How come he'd noticed this?

Still flabbergasted, Stiles simply murmured, "Um, yeah."

They stopped at their lockers and while Scott busied himself with putting books in and getting the ones they needed for their next class out he said, "So, just try to find out if he likes you, too. You're the king of stealth, bro, if you keep your mouth shut." Scott winked. "Oh, who is this guy, actually? Do I know him? Maybe I can help you ask around and stuff."

And there was the crux of the matter, the thing that Scott apparently hadn't caught. "I don't know him."

Finally, Scott turned towards him with his patented confused expression that Stiles had waited for earlier already. "Huh?"

Stiles sighed. "I don't know a guy named Derek. I've never seen the dude outside of my dreams."

Scott's ridiculously puzzled expression was one that usually got Stiles to crack up. Not today. "Hang on. So, you're telling me you're crushing on a guy your mind's made up?"

"Brilliant deduction, Watson," Stiles said with a snort. So, maybe he'd given Scott too much credit earlier for 'getting it' when his friend hadn't _really_ gotten it until now when Stiles had spelled it out for him.

"Huh," Scott uttered with his usual lack of eloquence. "That changes things."

"No shit, dude." Stiles sighed again, leaning back against his once again closed locker. "He's just... he's kinda perfect. Hottest bod ever and he knows how to use it if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Urgh, dude, keep your wet dreams to yourself," Scott moaned.

Stiles couldn't help but laugh at his best friend's scrunched up face, feeling a little lighter. "Only if you shut up about yours and Allison's bed activities," he countered.

"Fine," Scott grumbled. "So, back to your loverboy." Scott paused, obviously to sort his thoughts. Stiles, good friend that he was, gave him all the time he needed. "So, you only like him for his looks and his qualities in bed or what?"

"No," Stiles immediately replied before amending, "well, no, I don't think so. He's kind of cute. Always insists on talking to get to know each other. The things he tells me, Scott, they're crazy. It's kind of freaking me out to think that my mind made all that up, that my subconscious might wish for the shit he tells me to be real."

'For Derek to be real,' he ended in his thoughts rather wistfully.

For a couple long seconds, they both said nothing. Then, Scott spoke with renewed enthusiasm, "Okay, know what I think?"

"No, I've no idea what goes on underneath that unruly mob of hair of yours besides Allison here, Allison there," Stiles grinned.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Stiles. Anyway, I think you need a distraction in the form of a night of Halo with your best friend."

Scott's smile was dazzling and pretty convincing from Stiles' point of view. "Yeah, sounds good," he agreed readily, hoping that it really would distract him from this Derek-shaped hole he felt every time he was awake.

"Awesome. Eight at your place. We'll order pizza," Scott planned, closing his locker and starting towards the cafeteria.

"I'm so gonna kick your ass," Stiles promised.

Scott snorted. "You wish."

Derek was basking in all the attention Stiles bestowed on him, loving every second of their cuddling session that Stiles had promised that morning, when his mate's mobile rang. He wanted to rip the thing to shreds for interrupting their peaceful afternoon with lots of stroking and petting on Stiles' part and licking and nuzzling on Derek's but settled on growling at the obnoxious device. Stiles wouldn't be pleased if his mobile would end up in pieces due to the combination of Derek's quick temper and sharp teeth. Therefore, he grudgingly accepted it when Stiles broke away from him with a groan and answered the call with a not really pleased sounding, "Hello?"

"Hey, Stiles," Derek heard Scott say in a cheerful tone on the other end of the line.

"Hey, bro. What's up?" Stiles asked in a slightly better mood than when he picked up. Derek was well aware that Scott was Stiles' best friend and while he knew that the guy had a girlfriend - her smell was all over the boy - he couldn't quite suppress the jealousy that coursed through him. Maybe it was because of their easy banter, the way they were so open around each other, a sign of their long-standing deep friendship, that rubbed Derek the wrong way. _He_ wanted to be the one Stiles could act around like that.

Derek could admit that where Stiles was concerned he turned into a possessive bastard. Both for Stiles' and his own good, he promised himself, though, to dial it down. Friends were important and what Scott and probably Allison as well were for Stiles, were Boyd, Erica and Isaac for Derek. He sure as hell didn't want to cut them out of his life when Stiles and he were properly mated. If they mated at all, that is, which was completely up to the boy sitting next to Derek on the edge of the bed. Still, if and when they were mated Stiles would always come first, even before family.

"Well, Allison...," Scott started but was interrupted by Stiles before he could even finish his first sentence.

"Don't tell me you're bailing on me for some Allison quality time, dude!"

Huh, Derek hadn't known that Stiles had plans with Scott. He'd actually thought they'd have the evening to themselves with more cuddling and sniffing.

"Dude, chill! I'm not bailing on you. Just wanted to make a suggestion," Scott amended.

"Uhu. And what's that?" Stiles asked warily and with narrow eyes.

"Well," Scott started and Derek could practically hear him fidget on the other side of the line, "look, there's this party Allison wants to go to tonight. And she's asked me to come, of course, but I didn't want to bail on my best friend so I thought, hey, what better to distract you from your crush on some guy your mind's made up than going to a party and getting to know other people, _real_ people to crush on."

For a second there, Derek forgot how to breathe. Stiles had a crush on him? On human him? That was better news than he could've wished for. His tail wagged excitedly. Maybe the rest wouldn't be so difficult then, practically with one foot in the door already.

"I don't know, Scott. I don't really feel up for a party tonight," Stiles answered reluctantly, reminding Derek that there was still the matter of Stiles' plans for the evening. He fervently hoped his mate would opt for staying in with him and not meet up with possible rivals for Stiles' affection.

"Oh, come on, dude! It'll be great!" When Stiles still didn't budge Scott whined, "Dude, seriously! You _have_ to come. There's hot people in flimsy clothing and a pool and free booze. How can you possibly say no?"

Even if he couldn't see them, Derek knew that Scott was making what Stiles referred to as his puppy dog eyes that never failed to sway his mate. Apparently, they worked on the phone as well since Stiles sighed the sigh of the defeated and said, "Okay, fine. I'll come."

If Derek had opposable thumbs at the moment, he'd march over to Scott's and strangle the idiot. A party! His mate was going to a party with lots of horny teenagers! Everything was possible. Other people would hit on his delectable mate. Stiles might even find someone else there, someone 'real' as opposed to 'only existing in his dreams' as Stiles had probably labeled him.

No fucking way! He was not going to let that happen, let his mate slip through his fingers so close to the finish line if he could help it.

Growling and pacing on the bed, he listened to Stiles and Scott wrapping up their conversation with plans of Stiles picking Scott up at nine with his Jeep and then going over to wherever this stupid party was supposed to go down.

As soon as Stiles had hung up, he turned around to face Derek and placed a hand on his head, scratching the fur between his ears soothingly. Immediately, Derek stopped with the agitated noises. Instead, he slumped forward on Stiles' lap and enjoyed the feeling of the human's fingers on the particularly sensitive spot. Damn, his mate already knew all his weak spots!

"That's better, boy," Stiles mumbled as he continued to treat Derek to blissful scratching and stroking. "Don't be mad at me that I'm leaving you to yourself on a Friday night. Blame Scott. Hell yeah, save that pissed off attitude for the next time he's over and _then_ do your growling and teeth flashing. I love it when you get him to nearly piss his pants with your menacing glare, you big bad dog, you." Stiles cackled.

Derek didn't think he was that bad. Stiles was obviously exaggerating massively. Still, Derek couldn't deny that the worry and fear and jealousy of someone his mate might or might not meet tonight gnawed away at him. That particular combination never worked well for a werewolf's composure, so keeping the fangs and claws away might become a problem if stoked further.

In need of scenting his mate, Derek pushed his face against Stiles' neck, rubbing it along the bitable tendons on both sides and mingling their scents. It calmed him, to smell himself on the boy and in return absorb some of Stiles' scent. It helped him to think more clearly about how to handle the situation.

There were several possible courses of action which he had to contemplate. Option one: sit back and hope that nothing happened. Option two: keep an eye on his mate and intervene only if the circumstances called for it. Option three: get Stiles to stay at home somehow. Option four: change and reveal everything and hope for the best.

He was still deep in thought with his muzzle burrowed into Stiles' armpit, drinking in his mate's intoxicating scent, when Stiles shoved him away gently and said, "How about we go for a walk, huh, buddy? You're getting fat, sitting on your lazy ass all day."

Derek huffed indignantly but jumped off the bed without a lot of fuss. He could go for a walk. He'd show Stiles how very fit and not fat he was. And while they were out he'd think some more about the situation and what he'd do.

With a look over his shoulder and an inviting 'Woof!', Derek gingerly picked up the lacrosse ball on the floor with his teeth, pawed the ajar door open and walked out. He heard Stiles laugh before the human's steps followed him down the stairs.

"Oh, you're on, Mister," Stiles hollered when they stumbled outside and Derek darted off immediately.

Derek would have grinned if he'd had the right body for it. Maybe he could wear Stiles out with all the running and playing fetch so that he'd be too tired to go to that freakin' party. With this thought in mind, he picked up pace as he dashed down the road towards the woods, praying he wouldn't tire before his hyperactive mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again betaed by [el-gilliath](http://el-gilliath.livejournal.com/). Thanks a bunch!

Naturally, Stiles hadn't tired as much as Derek had hoped from their antics in the Preserve to not go to the party. However, their little stroll had given Derek plenty of time to think his options through thoroughly. He had come to the conclusion to follow Stiles to the party in his wolf form to stand watch over him from the sidelines.

That was basically how he found himself hiding in the shadow of bushes just outside the property on, which the party was held, staring through the fence and gauging people's level of threat to Stiles. His mate was currently inside, talking to Scott and Allison and some other people that Derek didn't recognize. It made Derek twitchy that he couldn't see Stiles and the others surrounding him.

It was about twenty minutes after his arrival that he got a whiff of a well-known scent. One of his family members had just entered the stage. Derek sniffed in concentration as the scent drew closer. Cora. Of course. She was the same age as Stiles, seventeen, and Derek guessed that probably everyone in their year had been invited to this stupid party.

It didn't take long for Cora to notice him as well and to sneak away from the group of people she'd arrived with to slip through the iron gate in the fence only a few feet away from Derek's hiding spot.

"Derek. Didn't know you were invited," she greeted cheekily, well aware that Derek was, indeed, not invited. He didn't know anyone here apart from Stiles and his two friends and they only knew him as Stiles' dog so no, no one had written him an invitation or asked him to come.

When he didn't change back to get in on their usual banter but remained in his wolf form, she grumbled with furrowed brows, "Mom and dad are alternatively gushing about how happy they are that you've found your mate and whining about how they haven't seen you in weeks. It's annoying."

Had Derek been in his human form, he'd have smiled. It was good to hear that his family missed him as much as he missed them. While Cora didn't admit it out loud, Derek knew his sister was happy for him and had missed him as well. On the outside, she was as prickly as a cactus but on the inside, she was easily one of the most caring and loving people that Derek knew.

He wanted to give her a hug, scent her and be scented by her. She didn't smell much like him anymore and he didn't carry the scent of his pack, his family with him after weeks of living in the Stilinski household. He could tell she itched to touch and hug Derek as well, human Derek especially, maybe knock with her knuckles on his head like she was so fond of doing. Still, with thoughts of Stiles in his head, he only woofed softly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Derek! Change back and tell me what a spoiled brat and a pain in the ass I am!" Cora whisper-shouted, enraged.

Derek felt only slightly bad for denying his younger sister her wish to have some time with her brother face to face. Sure, he could just turn, have a quick chat with her and change right back but he didn't. As a human, his senses weren't quite as refined, as sharp, as in his wolf form and he was currently too far away from Stiles who was still inside, his scent and voice muffled by the walls separating them, to pick up on stuff going on around his mate. By way of apology, Derek nudged Cora's calf with his snout, hoping she'd understand.

Naturally, she didn't or maybe she did but still had to be a brat about it. With narrowed eyes and a calculating look, she said, "He's here, isn't he? I bet I could even pick him out from the crowd. Knowing you, your scent's all over him. Come to think of it, I guess I already know who it is. It's the Stilinski boy, isn't it? I smelled you on him at school. Maybe I should go over to him and see if I can't get him interested in another Hale."

In the blink of an eye, Derek had turned and grabbed her by the shoulders. Eyes glowing threateningly, he snarled, "Don't you dare. He's mine."

Cora just rolled her eyes, seemingly unimpressed by her brother's rather fierce reaction. "Jeez, Derek, relax. I'm not interested in your little mate. I just wanted to rile you up so you'd turn. Apparently, I succeeded." She smiled smugly.

Derek let go of her as if burned. Damn it! He'd been played by his little sister. And while that was frustrating enough what was worse was the fact that he had no clue where Stiles was and who he was with and what the hell was happening. His senses were too muted.

Cora's sigh pulled him out of his increasingly more worried thoughts. "Boy, will your mate have fun with your possessive ass."

Disgruntled, Derek shoved her before getting ready to change back.

"Oh no, you don't, Mister," Cora said and for a second Derek's mind flashed back to Stiles calling him that only a couple hours earlier, which was apparently long enough for his sister to go on with her tirade. "I know you're here to keep an eye on your mate because you're worried and you're a jealous fucker. But I won't let you do it with your furry ass standing at the gate hidden in the bushes like some creepy old dude. You're coming with me. As Derek, my _brother_."

Derek's eyes widened. He'd entertained the thought of going to the party as a human when considering all his options that afternoon but had discarded it quickly, deeming it too big a risk to take. "I can't, Cora. He can't see me. He doesn't know yet. He wouldn't understand and I'd just scare him off."

Cora watched him with a thoughtful expression. At least she seemed to understand what he was getting at, that for Stiles to know what Derek looked like without having seen him in reality meant a pretty strong and stable mental connection already. She had heard the stories of werewolves losing their mates by overwhelming them, too, so she had to be able to relate to Derek's situation.

Still, what came out of her mouth was, "You're going. There are enough people and niches to hide in. Your precious mate won't spot you. It'll do you good to stand on two legs again for a while after walking around on paws for so long."

Derek was still shaking his head. "I can't risk it, Cora. I can't lose him because of a foolish mistake that could've been avoided."

"Derek, you're not going to lose him," Cora said, putting a soothing hand on his upper arm. She didn't often show her serious, caring side but when she did it always made people listen. She might not be the next Alpha in their family but she was also not your average beta. She was someone others deferred to if her wishes didn't happen to coincide with the Alpha's. "I'll be with you the whole time if you want me to. We won't go near him. You'll be far enough away that he wouldn't be able to recognize you if he looked straight at you."

Still skeptical, Derek contemplated his sister's words.

"How often have you changed over the last couple of weeks?"

Derek looked away, which was answer in and of itself.

"You know that we have to change regularly, that it's unhealthy to stay in one form for too long. You'll start to forget how to be human if you are a wolf all the time," Cora went on, telling Derek what he already knew. Their parents had told them often enough how horrible it could end if you denied your body one of its forms for an extended period of time. Despite being aware of the consequences, Derek had only changed back a few times to go searching around Stiles' room back in the beginning. Afterwards, he just hadn't felt the need to turn and had been comfortable wearing fur all the time. Plus, it limited the risk of Stiles catching him off-guard, naked and sniffing Stiles' clothes or something.

"I'm worried, Derek," Cora said with a concerned expression. "I don't want to have to watch you lose yourself in the process of winning your mate over. I want to see you happy and healthy and able to enjoy your future with your mate."

Stiles chose that moment to emerge from the house. Immediately, the tension in Derek's shoulders that he hadn't even been aware of consciously lessened.

His sister's serious words still rang in his ears, though, and without further ado, he nodded sharply.

"Is that a yes? You'll go?" Cora asked, probably just to be the pain in the ass that she knew she was.

"Yeah," Derek grumbled and stumbled a step backwards an instant later when his sister's body slammed into him.

"Awesome!" She half-shouted. "We could've gotten to that point much earlier, you know. You could've just agreed the first time 'round."

Derek rolled his eyes in equal parts fondness and exasperation. Cora's serious mood hadn't held long, just long enough for her to get her will. For a second, Derek thought that it should worry him more how well she could manipulate him but in the end he had to agree that she had a point. Standing on two legs for a couple of hours would do him good.

Tightening his arms around her, he said softly, "It's good to see you, Cora." He rubbed his cheek along hers with closed eyes, scenting her. Derek's nakedness didn't bother either of them. Being werewolves meant not having any problems with nudity and getting into each other's space naked.

"Yeah, it's okay to see you, too, you big ol' wuss," Cora retorted with an audible grin. She scratched the sensitive spot behind his ear that Derek wouldn't admit to favor under the threat of death and breathed, "I missed you."

"Missed you and the others, too," Derek answered. He swayed with her softly, enjoying the beat of her heart so close to his, before she entangled herself from his embrace. Derek was reluctant to let her go but Stiles' laughter reminded him that he had other things to tend to.

Cora cleared her throat. "This never happened," Cora said, her eyes flashing briefly, before her mood swung to mischievous once again. "Now, time for mate sitting."

"I don't have clothes," Derek remembered. Nothing to wear meant no going to a party, unless you were an exhibitionist and Derek guessed that at least then, you'd show up in a coat or something and open it only once you knew you had people's attention. Not that he was an exhibitionist. Well, he had no qualms about walking around naked around his family but that was different.

"I'll stay here, human, and only change back when Stiles goes home," he said, hoping she'd be content with his solution. It'd still be risky but much less so than walking around in the open where Stiles could see him.

Spotting her raised eyebrows, he cursed himself for not having anticipated his sister's quick whit and her stubbornness, traits inherited by all Hales unfortunately.

"Wait here. I'll get you some clothes," she said, about to head off.

Derek grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "From where? I haven't stashed any close by."

"From inside, duh," Cora replied with an eye roll.

Derek shook his head. "We're not thieves, Cora."

"It's a party, Derek. Stuff gets broken and stolen at parties. It's in the definition," Cora said slowly as if explaining something basic like why you couldn't transform into a wolf in front of humans to a werewolf pup or why cutlery wasn't your enemy but your friend to children of any species capable of conscious thoughts and speech.

Again, Derek shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "No."

Cora threw her hands in the air in obvious exasperation. "Fine, you big baby. I'll return them afterwards. Anonymously." Her expression told him that another 'no' would end in her strangling or scratching or torturing Derek in some other way.

Something that was best to be avoided.

Derek nodded curtly.

With a mumbled, "Thank God," she disappeared only to return a few short minutes later with a bundle of dark clothes on her arm.

Derek sniffed. Good. Cora had picked clothes that obviously weren't worn often since they smelled only very faintly of their owner. He'd, of course, refused them if the scent had been stronger. Clothes sharing or borrowing was sort of an intimate matter for werewolves and simply not casually done. Only mates and in some cases family members or close packmates were comfortable enough to share clothing.

So, for Derek to agree to wear some stranger's clothes was a _huge_ exception, even if they smelled close to new, that he only made to watch over his intended mate. And to avoid the wrath of his younger sister.

"These should fit," she grumbled and thrust them at her brother. "They're in your favorite _non_ -color, black."

Since Derek didn't deem his sister's snippy side comment worth a reply, he simply slipped the clothes on, not even bothering to ask whose they were. As long as they were returned to their righteous owner he was alright with borrowing them for a short amount of time.

They hung a little too loose for his taste, probably one size bigger than what he usually wore, but other than that they were okay. He wasn't here to impress anyone, not even Stiles, because he still planned on observing him from the distance and not being spotted by his mate.

"I still think that this is a phenomenally bad idea," Derek grumbled, arms again crossed in front of his chest.

"Relax, big brother. It'll be fine," Cora said, surprisingly emphatic for once before destroying it with a half-shouted, "Let's go paaartyyy!"

Derek rolled his eyes but followed her, resigned. Maybe she was right and it really would be fine. They said hope dies last, so sue Derek for allowing himself to hope that nothing would go wrong for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there wasn't really that much going on in this chapter, I know, but it's still an important part as it sets the tone of what's to come next, the grand finale or the beginning of the end or however you want to call it. ;) Despite it being only a prelude, I hope you liked it as much as I liked writing it. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for letting you guys wait so long. RL was kinda crazy lately, what with me graduating, presenting my thesis at a conference, moving countries, job hunting, and a death and several birthdays in my family.
> 
> Anyways, the wait is over and I finally present to you the longest chapter of DALD so far (unbeta'ed at the moment, but that'll change soon, hopefully).

The party was okay, not spectacular, but okay. Lots of drunk people, obnoxiously loud music, horny teenagers making out in corners or the pool or just anywhere they wanted to. Practically every teenager's dream.

Stiles, however, didn't really feel like a part of it. He never truly did but what a little alcohol or Scott could usually remedy didn't work for him tonight. He'd left Scott inside with Allison and two of her giggling girlfriends after having to watch them suck face for the past five minutes.

It wasn't that Stiles wasn't happy for Scott for having found someone. If he had someone, he'd be glued to their side - or mouth - as well. Didn't help him in his current situation, though, and neither did alcohol because while he'd had a watered down glass of punch he didn't feel like getting wasted at all.

Not to mention that technically, he was still underage and the son of the Sheriff, so it was rather unadvisable to show up at home completely plastered. Plus, there was also the not quite irrelevant little fact that he had to drive home. So, hands off the alcohol for the rest of the night was Stiles' motto.

He was leaning against a pillar that reminded him of Greek architecture, letting his eyes roam over the crowd while valiantly trying to ignore the couple a little to his left that was making sounds not unlike animals devouring their prey. Stiles found it sounded rather gross.

His gaze finally landed on the girl he's had a crush on since third grade, the one and only Lydia Martin. She looked fantastic in her dark blue cocktail dress, red curls flowing freely over her back and shoulders. Not that long ago, he would have broken into a sweat and his heart would have gone into overdrive at the sight of her. He couldn't really pinpoint the moment when that had changed, though if he had to guess, he would have said it might have been around the time the dreams had started.

And there he was again, back to thinking about the one he was trying to block from his thoughts, if only for a couple of hours. Damn it.

Stiles was contemplating the merits of another small glass of watery punch instead of the soda he was having when he saw someone approaching him out of the corner of his eye. Jackson. Great, a nice talk with asshole Jackson was all he needed now.

"Hey, Stilinski," Jackson said with an ugly grin on his face that boded ill for Stiles' general health.

Still, Stiles was nothing if not civilized, at least until someone, usually Jackson, provoked him enough to forget his good upbringing. "Hey, Jackson."

"Lydia looks especially pretty tonight, don't you think?"

Ah, there was the rub. Jackson had probably caught him appreciate Lydia's impeccable appearance a minute earlier. Thing was, that while the whole school knew about Stiles' adoration for her no one was aware that his interest had shifted to someone else over the last couple of months. Someone just as unattainable as Lydia. Story of his life.

Stiles shrugged noncommittally. "She's beautiful as always," he settled on saying in a reserved tone, hoping that his answer both conveyed his romantic disinterest in Lydia as well as his platonic appreciation for the beauty of Jackson's girlfriend. Some other day, Stiles would have probably said something like 'yeah, hot and smart, which is why I'll never understand what she wants with a dickwad like you' just to rile him up. Today, he didn't feel like it was worth it to go through the trouble.

When Jackson stepped right into his comfort zone and stabbed his finger into Stiles' chest with a murderous expression, Stiles figured that he could've used his more colorful alternative answer. The outcome was still the same.

"Listen, you loser, Lydia is _my_ girlfriend and always will be. You don't even have an ounce of a chance with her 'cause I'm pretty sure she doesn't even know you exist. And just to be clear, Stilinski, I don't want you to look at her or even _think_ of her."

An arm wrapped around Jackson's shoulder and pulled the dickhead a step away from Stiles. Danny. Thank God for small favors.

"Hey Jackson," Danny said in a cheery tone, smiling brightly, "give him a break, buddy, hm? Besides, Lydia's looking for you."

Stiles could see that Lydia, in fact, wasn't looking for Jackson. She actually appeared to have a good time without her asshole of a boyfriend, laughing with some of her friends.

Jackson, however, didn't seem to notice. He never was the brightest crayon in the box. After glowering at Stiles one last time, he went over to Lydia and pulled her in his arms from behind. Stiles saw her role her eyes but otherwise ignore him. He smirked.

"I'm sorry he bothered you," Danny drew Stiles' attention to him. "He can be a tool but at least he's a loyal tool."

Stiles snorted. Considering that Jackson was Danny's best friend, the goalie was a-okay. And openly gay which seemed to bother no one because Danny, the little sunshine, was pretty much everybody's darling. You just couldn't _not_ like Danny. If Stiles was honest, he could imagine himself liking Danny even more than just in a nice-boy-next-door kind of way, if his day and nighttime fantasies weren't already occupied by some handsome devil.

"Tool is too weak to describe the stupidity that is Jackson," Stiles replied with a wry smile.

Danny grinned his 1000 watt grin. "Maybe. Diplomacy has always been a strength of mine." He smirked before looking down and rocking on his heels.

If Stiles didn't know better, he'd think Danny was nervous. Nah. There was no reason for Danny to be nervous about anything.

"Listen," Danny began, still rocking, hands in his jeans pockets, looking up at Stiles almost shyly. "Do you wanna head over to..."

Someone shoved against Stiles from behind before Danny could finish his question and Stiles stumbled forward, spilling his soda on himself in the process. "Fuck!" The wetness was seeping through his thin hoodie and t-shirt quickly and made the material stick to his skin uncomfortably.

"Sorry," the person who'd jostled against Stiles apologized and stepped in front of him. Cora Hale, one of the girls in his year with whom he hadn't exchanged more than five words all his life. She was most likely the same as Lydia in that she didn't even realize he existed.

"It's fine," he grumbled even though it was not at all fine. His crappy evening just got even crappier. The wet clothes and the cool evening breeze made him shiver slightly and goose bumps broke out on his upper body. He plucked the soggy material from his skin but that made matters only worse as cold air hit his moist skin with no barrier in between.

"Jeez, don't be such a wussy," Cora snapped at him. "C'mon, let's find you something dry to wear."

When she grabbed his wrist and tugged him to the patio door, Stiles braced his feet against her efforts. Seriously, what was wrong with the girl? First, she pushed him and caused him to spill his drink all over himself, then she ranted at him and _then_ she wanted to steal clothes for him? That girl had a lot of criminal potential beneath her wouldn't-harm-a-fly exterior. Stiles foresaw a rosy future in one of America's finest jails for her.

Wrenching his wrist from her surprisingly strong grip, he huffed, "Don't bother. I was just about to head home anyway." She looked somewhat perplexed by his rebuff, obviously used to get her way. Stiles simply turned to Danny who'd watched the whole incident from the sidelines. "See you at school!"

"Hey, wait!" Danny stopped him. "Can I give you a ride?"

Stiles shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I'm here with my Jeep."

"Oh, okay," the goalie visibly deflated before grinning again. "Then I'll just take you to your car."

Stiles shrugged, not sure why Danny was suddenly behaving so strangely.

He took off, Danny trailing behind him, leaving an indignant Cora in their wake judging by her scowl. Stiles couldn't care less. He was done with this sucky party.

After searching for and finding Scott who was still busy gnawing Allison's face off and informing him that he was leaving - Scott: "Already? Oh, Danny's with you. Have fun then!" Stiles: "It's not like that, idiot." - Stiles made his way through the mob of dancing, drunk teenagers. Finally at his car, he sighed in relief and climbed behind the wheel. "Thanks for the company, Danny!"

"No problem, Stiles," Danny replied somewhat subdued.

Whatever. Stiles didn't have the nerve to worry about Danny's atypical weirdness after tonight.

He turned the ignition key. The Jeep gave a stutter and a hiss before shutting off again. "Oh no," Stiles mumbled. "Come on." After another four failed attempts, he dropped his head onto the steering wheel, accepting defeat. Great, and another turn for the worst.

A knock on the window alerted him to Danny's persistent presence. "Wanna get back to my offer?"

If Stiles didn't depend on the boy to get home, he'd have loved to wipe the grin off his face he was so annoyed. "Sure," he sighed, exhausted, got out of his Jeep and shuffled into Danny's car.

When he looked up from fastening his seatbelt, he thought he spotted Derek looking straight at him from behind a low bush near the entrance of the house. Stiles blinked. When he opened his eyes again, Derek was gone. Huh. He could have sworn it was Derek. But how was that possible? The man didn't exist outside of his dreams. It was probably just his tired mind playing cruel tricks on him. Derek wasn't real. And if he had been real, no way would the guy show any interest in someone like Stiles.

Leaning back into the seat and closing his eyes, Stiles just wished for the night to be over and done with. He just wanted to go to bed and forget about everything. Preferably in Derek's arms.

Derek cursed himself. Damn. He'd been careless in his anger at that stupid, ever grinning boy who clearly wanted into Stiles' pants. He just hoped Stiles hadn't got a clear view of him and hadn't recognized him.

When Stiles drove away with that obnoxious boy, Derek nearly popped an artery. His plan to get Stiles away from the guy by sending Cora over to intervene had backfired somewhat spectacularly. Never trust others with as important matters as your soon-to-be mate. Now he had to set things right again himself, probably by scaring the guy panting after Stiles away as Stiles' four-legged best friend. Which would hopefully involve some biting and tearing into muscles.

He quickly stripped and changed forms behind a large bush that hid him from the party guests before racing home as fast as he could. Derek had to get back to Stiles' home before the boy did. There was no time to say goodbye to Cora. She'd follow his scent, find the clothes, draw her conclusions and would hopefully return the clothes to their righteous owner.

Fortunately, he did beat the two teenagers to the Stilinski house and was sitting in front of the door when they arrived only a couple minutes later. He trotted over to the passenger door, tail wagging, just as Stiles got out and said, "Thanks for the ride, Danny. G'night."

Derek would grin from ear to ear if his wereform allowed it at seeing the guy's - Danny's - crestfallen expression and hearing his disappointed "Good night, Stiles." Stiles, to Derek's utter delight, was positively ignorant of the other boy's intentions. After one last longing look, Danny drove off. Finally.

Only when Stiles nearly tripped over Derek did his mate notice him. Stiles' weary expression immediately morphed into a genuine but still tired smile. "Hey buddy," he greeted Derek and ruffled the fur on his neck, Derek's favorite spot in wolf form. "How did you get out of the house? Did I forget to lock the door or close a window? You're too smart for your own good, boy," Stiles murmured as they headed inside and upstairs to Stiles' room. "Glad I'm finally home. Should have stayed in like I wanted to, buddy. Next time Scott tries to talk me into going to a party with him, please pin me to a horizontal surface with your big, cuddly body and keep me from leaving the house."

Derek gave a short bark in agreement. He'd pin Stiles to whatever surface he wanted all right, even vertical ones, but maybe a little differently than how Stiles was thinking, with more skin and less fur and clothes.

"C'mon, boy, bedtime," Stiles all but slurred and yawned loudly as he climbed into bed in his clothes, obviously too exhausted to bother with changing or tooth brushing.

Derek didn't care. He had his mate where he wanted him and complied happily, snuggling against the teenager who draped an arm across him and tugged him even closer.

"Night, dog," Stiles breathed and went out like a light, Derek following him into sleep shortly after.

The first words Derek perceived when he came to in their dream were, "I missed you." They were in pretty much the same position on Stiles' dream bed in Stiles' dream room as in reality. However, instead of wolf Derek human Derek was snuggled up to the boy, face to face.

"Missed you, too," Derek replied softly and gave his lover a tender kiss.

They made out for a bit, lazy and unhurried as if they had all the time in the world.

"You know," Stiles began after another deep, slow kiss, "I thought I saw you at this party tonight. But I knew it couldn't be real because you only exist here."

Derek sighed wearily. It would have been too good to be true if Stiles hadn't noticed him. He leaned forward for another kiss to evade an answer and to get Stiles' mind off tonight's happenings.

Unfortunately, Stiles wasn't easily deflected for once. "It's scary how much I wish you were real and with me. It's the only thing I can think about," the boy whispered, his voice so sad.

It hurt Derek to hear Stiles like that. In another attempt at turning things steamy instead of gloomy, he nibbled along his mate's jaw towards his ear, something that usually drove Stiles wild.

Again, Stiles didn't bite. "Scott says I need to find someone else, someone real, to get over you."

At that, Derek growled lowly, unable to suppress his instinctual reaction to Stiles' words. Stupid Scott. Derek would have a bone to pick with the guy once Stiles and he were mated.

"But I know as long as we're here together, as long as I see and have you here, I won't be able to stop wanting you." Stiles looked up into Derek's eyes, taking a shaky breath as if to steal himself for something.

Derek didn't like where this was going at all.

"Maybe," Stiles started, "maybe it's better if I stopped dreaming of you but I just don't know how."

Stiles' words felt as if someone had run through Derek's heart with a wolfsbane-laced blade. "No!" He shouted before he could stop himself and pulled Stiles closer, clinging to him desperately.

"But Derek, I can't go on like this. It's driving me insane. It's already so bad that my mind's begun to play tricks on me and makes me see you even though you're not there," Stiles said in a tormented voice.

Derek could feel wetness on his skin where he pressed Stiles' face against his chest. His mate was crying. Stiles was crying and miserable and it was all because of him, Derek.

No, it couldn't go on like this, Derek agreed. But wasn't it too soon to tell him the truth? He wasn't ready yet, was he? But what other options did Derek have? It was either lose his mate because Stiles decided to cut off their mental connection because the boy couldn't stand longing for Derek anymore or telling him and still losing him or, hopefully, winning him as his mate in reality.

Maybe it was time to take the plunge and just do it. He had so much to lose but even more to gain.

"Stiles, look at me, baby," Derek whispered into Stiles' hair underneath his chin and only continued when big, teary eyes were blinking up at him. It nearly broke his heart to see his beautiful mate so distressed and only firmed his resolve to clear things up. Either way, Stiles was going to be better afterwards, even if he rejected Derek. He'd get over Derek eventually, move on and not be so miserable anymore and even if the thought hurt like hell, it helped Derek to go on. "This'll sound crazy but I need you to believe me, Stiles."

After a second, the boy nodded hesitantly, tears still spilling down his cheeks.

"Remember our talk about shape shifters and soulmates?" Derek asked gently.

Again, Stiles nodded, though more warily this time. He most likely had no idea what Derek was getting at.

Figuring that taking it one step at a time and not being too hasty would get him further, Derek took a deep breath to prepare for launching into an elaborate explanation that would set up the big reveal nicely. However, what finally came out was, "I am your dog, actually your wolf, werewolf, and I'm your soulmate."

So much for not being too hasty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear what you thought. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I hope the wait was short enough for you guys this time. ;) Here we go, Stiles' reaction. Again, unbeta'ed (but not for long, I hope).

For a second there, Stiles didn't know how to react. Then, he burst into a laugh.

"Yeah, right, and I'm Batman," he snorted, sitting up to wipe the tears that were now tears of laughter from his cheeks. Seriously, just what he'd needed, a good joke. His hilarity didn't cease even in his sleep. And while the part about soulmates hit probably too close to home and caused a sharp sting in the general region of his heart, the part about Derek being his dog was just ridiculously fantastical. His mind, seriously. There should be movies made out of the stuff going on in there.

"No, Stiles, you have to believe me," Derek repeated as he sat up as well, grabbing Stiles' shoulders with a desperate look in his eyes. "I am real and I am your dog. You love playing tag with me and that I can get away with destroying things like your Dad's horrendous sandals. And you always pet my neck and..."

Stiles huffed, interrupting his dream guy's frantic words, suddenly becoming angry at Derek which basically meant at himself for conjuring up such a perseverant lover who couldn't just drop it but instead had to rub salt in his wounds.

"I know that. My subconscious knows it which, oh, right, _made you up_ , in case you forgot," Stiles snarled. He'd crossed the line from being severely amused to being severely annoyed. When he'd went to bed he'd actually just wanted to leave the weirdness and awfulness that had been his night behind. However, he just hadn't been able to let it go, the events too upsetting for him, and had therefore somehow steered his dream into a direction he wasn't even remotely okay with. Enough was enough.

Derek, however, didn't seem to think so. "I can prove it," he said and the despair in the man's eyes almost made Stiles gasp. Almost.

Instead, he drawled, "Yeah? How? This is a dream, dude. Nothing that you can do here, that happens here, translates into reality."

"Then wake up, Stiles," Derek edged on, still holding on to Stiles' shoulder and even shaking him a little. "Wake up and _I'll_ be with you instead of your dog."

Stiles' breathing stopped. Oh god, how often had he wished for exactly that to happen over the past couple months. He must be a masochist extraordinaire to wave the one thing he wished for the most in front of himself like that.

"You're not real," he whispered just to remind himself, shaking his head slowly. Tonight's emotional rollercoaster ride had taken its toll on him and left him almost as drained as he had been when his mom had died.

"I am, I promise," Derek said insistingly. "Now, wake up, Stiles. Please."

Still shaking his head, Stiles breathed, "No, I don't wanna. Can't we just go back to how things were before?" He just wanted to forget it all, bury all the hurt and confusion and misery and build a stone wall around it.

Derek closed his eyes and Stiles would swear he'd never seen a more pained expression on anyone before. "I'm sorry, Stiles, but we can't. It's time. I can't let this go on any longer. Please, close your eyes and wake up, Stiles," Derek pleaded with a determined look. "Trust me."

It was the misery he saw reflected back at him from Derek's eyes that finally made Stiles cave. What did he have to lose in the end? Nothing. He'd wake up, his dog would be sleeping next to him and then he'd go back to sleep himself and maybe dream again about the man who'd stolen his heart. It wouldn't even be disappointing because it wasn't like he expected Derek to be lying next to him when he awoke because it simply wasn't possible.

No, it wouldn't hurt more than waking up on any other day and finding himself alone, his lover left behind in the realm of dreams.

After a last hesitating moment, Stiles closed his eyes. He wasn't sure if he wasn't just imagining it but he thought he heard Derek murmur, "Please don't freak out."

It was then that it occurred to him that he'd never willed himself to wake up in his dreams. Was that even feasible?

But before he could worry about it anymore, Derek kept repeating, "Wake up, Stiles. Please wake up."

The soft words pulled at him, or something inside of him, he wasn't certain, but his consciousness grew fuzzy around the edges, along with Derek's voice. Then, after a heartbeat or two, he heard his lover more clearly again, still repeating his plea before he fell silent.

"You're awake," the same voice said then, sounding something in between hopeful, dreading, and uncertain. "Open your eyes, Stiles."

And Stiles did. He opened his eyes, sure that he was still dreaming or otherwise he wouldn't hear Derek. But when his eyelids fluttered open and his awareness sharpened he noticed the little differences between dream and reality almost immediately. The bed underneath him was harder, the material of his bedclothes not as soft. The light streaming in through the window was colder and didn't make his room glow in soft, yellowish twilight. His heater made that annoying clicking noise that his dad had called some handyman about to look it over in a couple days. It smelled faintly of the soda he'd spilled over himself. He still even wore his clothes from the party, complete with the soiled t-shirt and hoodie which had mostly dried by the time he'd gotten home. In the dream, he'd been naked like always, just like Derek.

Derek.

Stiles sat up and turned sideways, stopped, stared.

"Hello Stiles," Derek said with a self-conscious smile from where he sat right next to Stiles. Completely naked, if Stiles wasn't mistaken, though at least covered with the blanket. Naked like in the dream but everything around him felt off, too sharp, too real to be anything _but_ real.

"No," Stiles breathed, over and over. As his mind tried to make sense of what he saw he felt his chest tighten, his heart beating a frantic tattoo, his throat slowly closing up. His head filled with cotton wool until there was no room for any other thought than the one word he was also uttering inside his mind. "No, no, no, no, no."

Someone shook him, shouted at him but he didn't understand the words. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe properly. What was it that he was supposed to do again when that happened?

"Breathe, Stiles! You've got to breathe!" Someone yelled, again and again, and finally Stiles could make out the one crucial word in the jumble of sounds, breathe. That was what he was supposed to do.

Forcing himself to concentrate enough to do just that, he breathed. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four.

He didn't know how long it took for the cotton wool to slowly vanish into thin air and for his mind to go back online but by the time his rational thinking returned and he could breathe more easily again, he was sticky with sweat. And then, he remembered. Derek.

"Thank God, Stiles," the man said in an unsteady voice, relief and lingering worry thick in his tone. "Are you okay? I was so worried about you."

Still feeling rather shaken from the previous episode, Stiles zeroed in on Derek and suddenly felt a surge of intense, negative emotions flood through him. "No," he snarled, "no, I'm _not_ okay. I haven't had a panic attack in _years_ and right now, I think I've finally snapped and boarded the train to crazy town because I'm seeing things that _shouldn't be real_." He paused, his eyes narrowing on the man next to him. "Or, I'm _not_ going insane and because of some stupid, inexplicable magic bullshit, you're really real and my dog and the guy I fucked in my dreams who's been _lying to me for freakin' months_!"

Stiles watched as Derek retreated to the edge of the bed as if slapped, Stiles' shoulders shaking from his completely justified outburst of rage. When he'd imagined that Derek was real, Stiles had always thought he'd be the most happy person alive. Instead, he'd never felt so angry, so hurt, so _betrayed_ before because Derek had been real all this time and had let him suffer in loneliness, all the while frolicking about as Stiles' goddamned dog.

Which was a whole other can of worms Stiles had no intention of opening right now, because wholly shit, Derek was a werewolf.

A werewolf who'd stalked him until Stiles had taken him in as his pet. Who'd somehow stolen into Stiles' dreams. Who'd told him fancy stories about shifters and soulmates after fucking him and now claimed he was Stiles' soulmate. Who'd made Stiles _want_ and _wish_ and feel utterly alone. Who hadn't found it necessary to fucking _tell_ Stiles until months later.

'Yeah, focus, Stiles. One thing at a time. Focus is good,' he told himself grimly. And right now, there was only one thing really worth focussing on.

"All this time," he continued when Derek didn't appear to say a thing, a bit more composed but still charged with all the feelings coursing through him, "you led me to believe that I was falling for a guy who only existed in my dreams, who I could never have for real. Do you even know how much that hurt?" He stopped there because his voice was short of breaking and he didn't want to give the one who was responsible for it the satisfaction of seeing him actually break. After a couple seconds of measured breaths, he was calm enough to go on, "You lied to me.."

"No," Derek interrupted forcefully, hands raised in a placating manner, eyes pleading. "I _never_ lied to you, Stiles, and I never would."

"Right," Stiles snorted, "you only kept one little but all-important detail from me." Again, he stopped, gathering his thoughts. "You couldn't just simply get to know me the old-fashioned way before introducing me to all the crazy _before_ getting involved, could you? Take me to the movies, buy me milkshakes, go for a walk in the park?"

Derek looked lost, visibly searching for words, but Stiles had had enough. More than enough. He simply couldn't deal with it all anymore. Tonight had turned from a disaster to a nightmare of epic proportions and he just felt so fucking tired, emotionally drained until there was nothing left but a hollowness inside.

Averting his eyes from the desperate look on the most handsome face he'd ever seen, Stiles whispered, "Go."

"Stiles," Derek all but gasped, voice wrecked and raw.

"Go," Stiles repeated, louder, angrier this time, gaze turned on Derek once again for emphasis, "or I'll call my dad home from work who has a gun and won't be happy to find his only son with a strange man in his bed."

For long seconds, they simply sat there, staring at each other in the cold blue light of the night, Derek's gaze searching, hoping, praying, Stiles' unwavering, determined. After what felt like an eternity, Derek nodded curtly, climbed out of the bed and slinked over to the window.

If he'd been Stiles' dog, _a_ dog, werewolf, whatever, at the moment and had had a tail, it would've been tucked between his legs and rightfully so, Stiles thought without any sympathy.

Just when Stiles was about to point out that the way out was through the door on the other side of the room, Derek opened the window and climbed outside in all his nakedness that Stiles didn't have the nerve to acknowledge at all. Crouching on Stiles' windowsill, Derek cast him one last look over his shoulder, then disappeared into the night.

Stiles was still sitting there, staring into space, mind carefully blank, when his dad came home from his nightshift a couple hours later and silently peeked into Stiles' room.

"Hey son," the sheriff said, sounding almost as tired as Stiles felt. "How come you're awake this early on a Saturday morning?"

Stiles just shrugged his shoulders in a detached way.

"Huh," his dad mumbled, obviously picking up on Stiles' bad mood, or moodlessness, to be precise, since he was too empty to feel anything at all. "You alright, Stiles?"

"Fine," Stiles said with no inflection whatsoever.

When he didn't even turn around to his dad, the sheriff walked over and sat down at the edge of the bed. "I know I'd never win the best dad in the world award, what with me being off at work all the time. But I can still see when something's wrong with my boy." Pause, then, "You know I'm here for you if you wanna talk."

That got Stiles to face his father who displayed deep worry lines that Stiles didn't want to add to anymore than he already had. So he plastered on a fake smile that he knew wouldn't fool his dad but it'd, at least, keep his dad from becoming a murderer if he told him what was really going on. "Thanks, dad, I love you," Stiles muttered and gave his old man an awkward hug from his position on the bed, hoping to deflect his dad's worries some.

"Love you, too, son," his dad replied in a low voice and returned the hug wholeheartedly. On his way back out of Stiles' room, he turned around to ask, "Hey, where's that annoying fleabag of a dog? Doesn't he usually sleep in your room?"

And that there gave Stiles the out he was looking for, a plausible explanation for his current weird behavior. So he just said, "Gone." in a small voice and was surprised at the sharp sting he felt even through his numbness when it suddenly sunk in that not only Derek was now gone but his dog as well. He had to swallow around a lump in his throat. Just as well. He'd been living a lie. It was good that the source of all his problems had vanished from his life completely.

"What?" The sheriff sounded incredulous. "What happened? Did you leave a door open? Have you looked for him in the neighborhood?"

"Don't know," Stiles answered to the first two questions, giving half a nod at the last.

"Oh, Stiles." His dad usually wasn't the most tactile person but he was obviously pretty fond of Stiles' dog, _Derek_ , because he was next to Stiles again in a second, pulling him into another hug, probably to comfort them both.

It only made Stiles' eyes burn with unshed tears, tears he wasn't willing to cry.

"That mutt is too clever for his own good," the sheriff mumbled sadly when he let go of Stiles again, almost repeating the exact same words Stiles had said to his dog, _Derek_ goddammit, only a couple hours earlier.

'If only you knew how right you are,' Stiles thought cynically. 'If only _I'd_ known.'

"We'll find him, son, I promise. Let me just get a couple hours sleep. I'm wiped and would probably fall asleep on my feet if we went out searching for him right now, okay?"

Stiles nodded. There simply was no other response.

"We can pin posters of him on posts and I'll instruct my deputies to watch out for him," the sheriff went on planning their search that would most definitely lead to nowhere. "You create the poster, I catch up on some sleep." Reconsidering, he added, "Maybe you should try to get some more sleep, too. Oh, and one more thing. Where's your Jeep? I actually just came in here to check if you were here because it's not parked in front of the house."

"It's over at a friend's," Stiles answered shortly but elaborated when he saw his dad's questioning eyebrow, "it wouldn't start so I left it there. Danny gave me a ride."

"We'll take it to the shop later," the sheriff said. "Okay, I'm heading off to bed. See you at lunch at the latest. You cooking?"

Stiles nodded.

"What're we having?"

"Spaghetti with meatballs," Stiles replied, not giving much thought to his answer since he was already slipping back into the peaceful void he'd been in when his dad had come home.

"Huh," was his dad's baffled reply.

"Night, dad," Stiles mumbled.

"Night, son," the sheriff said back and with one last worried look at his boy left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
>  
> 
> Nah, I wouldn't end it like that, don't worry. I am a big fan of stories with happy endings and I don't write stories I don't like. ;) Just bear with me a little longer and let me live to continue. :) Oh, and leave comments, please. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on it goes, chapter 9 (unbeta'ed, but that's about to change soon). It's drawing to a close, folks. :)
> 
> On another note, I made some artwork for the story, cover art (in chapter 1) and dividers between Derek's and Stiles' POV and at the end of each chapter. I hope it didn't turn out too bad since it's only my second attempt at doing art for one of my stories.

Of course, Stiles didn't end up taking his dad's advice and getting some sleep. He simply couldn't. Not with the possibility of having to face Derek once again in his dreams because at the moment, Derek was the last person Stiles wanted to see, asleep or awake.

Which brought him to another dilemma. He didn't even know how this whole dream-sharing business worked and if, maybe, Derek could only access his dreams - or was it the other way round? - when they were physically close.

As always, Stiles deemed research the key to solving his problems. However, after at least three hours of excessively google-fuing dream-sharing or dreamwalking as well as werewolves, shape shifters and soulmates, his head swam even worse than before. There was so much crap and conflicting information on the internet that Stiles had absolutely no idea what to believe or even consider to be the truth. In the end, he decided to leave it for another day, provided he ever felt the need to torture himself again with sorting through unreliable stuff about supernatural beings and what have you, now that he'd banished the one supernatural element from his life.

Sure, he had the information Derek had given him only a night before and that he'd, of course, written off as rubbish at the time, like the whole bridging of supernatural abilities that happened between a shape shifter and a human. What made matters worse, he didn't know if he should believe whatever he'd learned from the person who'd betrayed him and hurt him so deeply.

In addition, Derek hadn't spoken about their weird dream connection thingy which still left Stiles with the problem of whether he could sleep without fearing to see Derek again. But if he trusted that Derek had told him the truth, it was likely that with Derek gone, the bridge or connection or whatever there was between them was gone as well and that Stiles could probably sleep in peace again.

Still, he didn't want to take chances, not when his mental and emotional sanity depended on it. He wasn't keen on having another panic attack, no sir.

He knew he should probably be more rational about it, consider Derek's side of the story as well, try to understand his motives, why the guy had acted the way he had. But when he'd given him the time to explain himself last night in between one of Stiles' rants Derek had remained silent as a grave. Plus, the guy'd had _months_ of coming clean but had instead tormented Stiles with what he thought was unattainable for him.

No, he couldn't just put it all behind him, maybe even give Derek another chance, not after what the man had put him through, not when the wound in Stiles' chest was still so fresh. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to forgive him, even though the guy was supposedly his soulmate. After all, who did things like that to his soulmate and cause his soulmate so much pain?

On top of that, Stiles felt used. Right from the beginning of their acquaintance, they'd had sex. Of course, at the time, Stiles had just thought he had really vivid wet dreams but in hindsight, knowing what he knew now - namely that his dream partner had been real the whole time and had slept with him in their shared dreams without telling Stiles - it made him feel queasy. He'd never jump into bed with someone on first sight in real life. If he'd known back then, he wouldn't have let it go down like that. 

When Derek had told him about the concept of soulmates Stiles had wanted that, badly. Now, he wasn't so sure if having a soulmate was such a good thing. One person, bound to you, who held so much power over you that they could easily crush you. Didn't sound like something desirable.

With a sigh, Stiles closed the browser and moved on to halfheartedly creating a 'lost dog' poster. The old man would become suspicious if Stiles didn't make one and Stiles didn't need a suspicious Sheriff on his back on top of everything.

Unfortunately, he had a truckload of pictures of his ex-dog which he had no inclination of going through. Instead, he just randomly clicked on one that he'd use for the poster. It was one of the pictures his dad had taken and showed Stiles with his arms around the dog, _werewolf_ , Stiles smiling brightly at the camera, Derek's tongue sticking out in a happy dog expression. Stiles quickly closed the window again at the flash of hurt and opened another picture. Better if only the supposed dog was on it anyway.

When he was done with the poster - which didn't turn out as it would have if the cover story of his missing dog was really true but looked good enough not to make his dad suspect anything else was off - he went downstairs to make lunch. To his dad's great disappointment, however, he didn't make spaghetti with meatballs but a vegetable casserole. Just because some shit happened in his life didn't mean that he'd let his dad's diet slide.

After lunch, they towed off Stiles' Jeep and took it to the shop where they told him they'd need probably a week to repair it. Then, Stiles and his dad spent hours driving through the neighborhood in search of the dog, of course, with no luck. His dad assured him that they'd go again tomorrow and that he shouldn't give up hope. Stiles just wished he could tell his dad everything and make him see that their search was in vain without the prospect of being put in a psychiatry.

By the end of the day, Stiles' head was pounding as if someone had been beating on it. With Thor's hammer. Repeatedly. He just wanted to go to bed and sleep, sleep, sleep, even though it was only nine.

Thankfully, the driving around in the cruiser with his dad all day hadn't been completely fruitless. He'd used the time to think about the dream issue and had come up with an idea: sleeping pills. He'd taken them right after his mom had died because he'd dreamt of her dying in horrible ways each night. Back then, his dad had taken him to the doctor who'd prescribed him the pills so to fall into a deeper sleep where he wouldn't be plagued by nightmares and thank God, they had worked. He hadn't taken them in a long time but he was sure that they still had some in the medicine cabinet. Stiles figured his dad would be less than thrilled about him taking them again, so it was a good thing his had already left for work.

After swallowing one of the pills down with a glass of water and stowing away the rest of them under his pillow, he lay down, trying to think of nothing which was quite a feat for him. But the past two days had worn him down so much that, in combination with the drugs, he quickly fell asleep and didn't wake up until ten the next morning, with no dreams corrupting his sleep whatsoever.

Unbelievably, though, he still didn't feel much better after almost thirteen hours of uninterrupted sleep. The headache was still present and on top of that, he felt slightly nauseous which led him to skip breakfast and only nibble on a piece of toast for lunch. His dad shot him worried glances throughout the day which was all in all more of the same as the day before, well, without the part of taking the Jeep to the shop, of course. More searching for a dog that never was a dog to begin with and would never be found if he didn't want to. Plus, more blocking of thoughts involving said not-dog.

Scott came over in the afternoon and, tactful as ever, said Stiles looked like shit. They did their homework together for the next day and Scott gushed about Allison and her wonderfulness and told Stiles too many details about what they'd been up to at a party. Even as a best friend, he didn't need to know about every single part Scott had groped and vice versa, seriously. Especially, if his head was killing him.

When Scott trotted home again Stiles immediately went to bed but, of course, not without taking a sleeping pill beforehand. Again, it worked like a charm and he was spared from dreaming and possibly seeing Derek.

If it was possible, he felt even worse the next day. Maybe the fact that it was a school day had something to do with it but somehow he doubted it.

Sitting through his classes was pure torture. Thankfully, the other students gave him a wide berth. Only Scott, best friend that he was, stuck around.

Danny stopped by his desk at some stage and asked him if he was alright but other than a couple grunts and an obviously untrue "'m fine" didn't get anything else out of Stiles.

The next couple of days passed by in much the same fashion. Each morning he looked worse for wear in the bathroom mirror with dark circles growing bigger and bigger under his eyes. The headache hadn't subsided in the least and was still making his days hell to get through. He had no appetite and wouldn't have eaten at all if it wasn't for his dad and Scott who practically forced at least some bites down his throat. They both looked increasingly concerned about him and Stiles tried his best not to let his suffering show all that much when he was around them. Stiles feared his dad would soon pick up on the fact that no missing dog was behind Stiles' miserable state if he didn't pull his head out of his ass soon. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done because this damn flu or cold or whatever the heck he'd picked up in addition to everything else just wouldn't give him a break and let him handle the situation more sensibly. Usually, lots of sleep helped when he felt under the weather. Not this time, unfortunately.

In addition, he hadn't jerked off in God knows how long whereas usually he did it several times a day. Thing was, he didn't even feel much like jacking off these days. Honestly, he didn't think he'd even manage to get it up in his current condition.

On two days, he'd woken in a cold sweat with traces of fear lingering around the edges, the bed completely soaked. Fear from or for what, he had no clue since it couldn't have been from a dream so he had simply shrugged it off. No need to burden himself with even more things he didn't understand or didn't feel up to deal with. On his list of issues to get back to at a later time - or never, if it could be helped - it ranked right underneath Derek - number one by far - and the chem pop quiz he'd most likely blown on Tuesday.

At school, pretty much everyone, including the teachers, excluding Harris because he was a dickbag, left him alone. Coach even sent him home because he apparently looked 'like death warmed over, Stickowsky.'

What he didn't notice, though, were the nasty looks Cora shot his way all through the week. So it came as a surprise when she cornered him on his way to his locker on Friday afternoon after the last bell.

"Listen, you little shit, I've had enough of this. My brother's in a coma because of you, probably even dying. I don't give jack shit that I'm not supposed to interfere. Screw that! I can't just watch my brother die just because some asshole is too absorbed in himself," Cora yelled at him, shoving him roughly into the wall and making him see stars.

"Hey now, what the heck is wrong with you? Which nut house let you out? Seriously, I have no freaking idea what you're talking about," Stiles shouted back just as loud and pushed her away. Unfortunately, she didn't budge an inch and remained firmly in his comfort zone.

"My brother, Derek, is dying as we speak," she growled and flashed angry, golden eyes at him for a second before they turned back to their usual color.

"What?" He croaked, not sure he'd seen and heard correctly.

"Derek's dying, you fucker, and you're the only one to stop him from giving up. So you need to come with me right now." In an obviously typical Cora move, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him along the corridor and outside of the building.

Stiles was too dazed to protest against her rough treatment, plus he was still trying to process what she'd just told him. Cora Hale was Derek's brother? So that made Cora a werewolf as well. One who was visibly very angry with him because what? Derek was dying because of him? And he, Stiles, was the only one who could save him? Bullshit! He hadn't done anything to Derek except kick him out when he'd learned that Derek had lied to him all these months.

He braced his feet against Cora's pulling, finally getting a grip on himself and the ridiculousness of the situation. "Stop dragging me along all the damn time! I don't know what your problem is, girl, but I'm not falling for another lie from one of you!"

Stepping closer and invading his comfort zone once more, she spat, "I'm not lying, asshole, and if you care about him even a little bit, you better come with me or you'll be responsible for his death."

They stared at each other, hard, then Stiles deflated somewhat. Of course, he cared about the bastard, probably always would. And if Derek really was dying and he was the only one who could do something about it, he'd do it. Because damn it all, but his heart would probably shrivel up and die as well when just the thought of a world with no Derek in it had it hurting so bad.

So Stiles simply nodded his acquiescence and let her drag him to her car, too spent from their discussion to rebel once more against her method of making sure he followed.

Maybe she wasn't lying and he really was Derek's only hope. Weirder things had happened in the past couple of days. Well, maybe not weirder but probably on the same level of weirdness.

And if she was lying and was simply trying to play matchmaker or if Derek was behind all this and was meanwhile sitting at home, munching away on some cookies or scowling at plants or whatever the guy did in his spare time, then Stiles could always storm out of there again and finally put the whole ordeal behind himself.

He leaned his forehead against the cool side window to soothe his killer headache a little, watching as Beacon Hills rushed past them as Cora's speeding took them closer to her home. To Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought about this part (and the art ;)).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter everyone! I'm (finally) back with another chapter and I'm really really very sorry for the (horrendously) long wait. If it's any consolation, this chapter is much much longer than all the others. I've added a rather important paragraph to the previous chapter so I advice you read that one again before starting with the new installment.
> 
> On another note, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who left kudos and/or a comment so far! Thanks for taking the time and for being persistent that I finish and my apologies to those I haven't answered. I really appreciate each and every kudo/comment!

In hindsight, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that Derek, Cora, and their werewolf family lived deep in the Preserve, far from the rest of Beacon Hills. When they finally pulled up in front of what had to be the Hale house Stiles got out without waiting for another insult or a wrist tug from Cora. He was already halfway to the house when the front door sprang open and a dark-haired, attractive woman whose appearance practically screamed 'I gave birth to Derek and Cora' rushed down the porch towards him. She had dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, much like him, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair looked as if she'd been running her fingers through them constantly. She definitely had the air of a mother who feared for her son's life.

"You must be Stiles. I had hoped to meet you under different circumstances," she said with a sad smile before it vanished again when she turned towards her daughter. "Which part of 'don't get involved' and 'leave the boy alone' didn't you get, young lady?"

"Just... Tell me where he is," Stiles said before Cora could get a word in, suddenly feeling tired to the bone. Whatever was awaiting him inside that house - Stiles just wanted to get it over with, go home, and sleep for at least fifteen hours straight. He neither had the patience nor the energy to endure a discussion between mother and daughter, much less if both were hot-blooded, short-tempered werewolf ladies.

Derek's mother watched him with sharp eyes that resembled Derek's so much it was almost like a punch to the gut. It felt as if she could see right into his soul. After about two and a half eternities, she nodded curtly. "Follow me."

So Stiles did. He felt detached, only noticing his surroundings in a vague sort of way as they walked through the house to, supposedly, Derek's room. During the last couple of days, Stiles had wondered if and how he would see Derek again and what it would be like if he did. What was he supposed to say? To feel? To even think of the guy who'd snuck into Stiles' life and home, who'd betrayed him and used him while carving himself a space so deep inside Stiles' heart that Stiles would never be able to cut him out without damaging his heart beyond repair?

He was not prepared for this. One measly week was not enough time, not enough water under the bridge if there ever was enough. He was even less prepared if what Cora had told him was true and Derek lay dying. What was he supposed to do then?

'Jesus, this is all just so fucked up,' was his last clear thought before Derek's mom opened another door and all thoughts got pushed to the background upon seeing what was inside.

Slowly, he made his wobbly legs cooperate and stumble step after step into the room and closer to the still figure on the bed. Even though he'd only ever seen Derek for real once plus a few times in their shared dream world, Stiles was certain that he'd always recognize him. The man on the bed, though, looked like a very bad wax figure of the man he knew, with dull hair stuck to pale, clammy-looking skin. The most unnerving thing were the eyes, open but clearly not seeing. Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine.

"What's wrong with him?" He whispered. He stood several feet in front of the bed, too scared to move closer and find that it was too late and Derek was already dead. It was an irrational fear since he could see Derek's chest moving with each shallow breath. When you were faced with seeing someone you cared about so sick they couldn't even move there was not much place for rational thoughts. Stiles knew. He'd lived through this experience once before.

And yes, he did still care for Derek, even after everything. His painfully fast beating heart told him the feelings were still there, although mostly buried underneath all the hurt and anger and resentment.

"It's telepathic separation," Derek's mom then said.

Stiles frowned. He'd never heard of that before, neither from Derek nor while scouring the internet for information on this thing between Derek and him. "Telepathic what?"

"Has my son explained to you what we are?"

He nodded.

"And about soulmates?"

Another nod.

"But he hasn't told you about telepathic separation?"

Stiles shook his head.

Mrs. Hale sighed. "It can happen when soulmates don't stay in regular telepathic touch. It's not usually that bad in not fully bonded pairs. Normally, you would only feel under the weather for a while, a bad headache, maybe some anxiety at the worst." Stiles must have made a noise of recognition of what she was describing because next she said, "You've noticed it, too, haven't you?"

He nodded again, snorting. "I thought it was the flu." He didn't know if he should feel stupid about his ignorance concerning everything supernatural or relieved to finally know why he'd been so exhausted all the damn time this week.

For a while, neither of them spoke, both deep in thought while watching the almost lifeless man on the bed.

"This... situation is really unusual," Mrs. Hale started, clearly puzzled. "I've never heard of a similar instance. Going into a coma, it usually only happens in fully bonded pairs." She paused again. "You must already have a very strong mental connection without being fully bonded since I don't think you've either shared thoughts while you're awake or consumed your bond physically yet."

A vicious blush crawled up his throat and onto his cheeks. Oh God, did she know? Had Derek told her what they'd been up to in their dreams? Jesus, he'd never felt as mortified. And shared thoughts while awake? Seriously?

"Don't worry, Stiles. I don't know the details," she said mildly. "You're reaction just now told me more than my tight-lipped son has. I'm very good at extrapolating."

Stiles could practically hear the wink in her voice, a weak attempt to lighten the mood that fell short because both of them were simply too tense. Deciding to ignore the thought-sharing-stuff for now, he asked, "How long has he been like this?"

"Since Tuesday."

Stiles gasped. Three days? Derek had been comatose for three whole days and no one had deemed it necessary to inform him? Even worse, they'd consciously decided against telling him when he was, as per Cora - who hadn't followed them to Derek's room as Stiles just then noticed, thanking God for small mercies - Derek's only chance?

Angry on behalf of Derek's life, he turned around to face Derek's mom and took a deep breath to start questioning her paternal instincts right into her face when she beat him to it.

"I know what you're about to say, Stiles..."

He snorted. She _hardly_ did.

"But it was Derek's wish."

 _What?_ "What?"

If he'd had to count the times Mrs. Hale sighed, looking like she had to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, Stiles would have needed _at least_ an abacus to keep track. "Before he holed himself up in his room he told us that he'd messed up with you, that he'd hurt you unintentionally. He made us promise to leave you alone. He wanted to give you space. He said that if you ever came back to him, it would have to be of your own volition, your choice."

That bastard. Stupid idiot! Stiles wanted to shake him awake and yell at him for endangering his own life like this. Again, irrational since the damn moron clearly couldn't have known that he was going to lapse into a coma without being fully bonded. He felt tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. Derek's last noble wish, to leave Stiles the choice if he wanted to see Derek again, had almost cost him his life.

Looking over to Derek's mother once again, he saw a tear rolling down her cheek. " I love my son and I respect his wishes. But it almost broke my heart to do so this time," she whispered, voice nearly breaking.

Stiles had to blink several times and wipe his eyes with his sleeve before he was ready to speak again. "Would you have let him die? Would you have respected his wish even if it meant his death?"

"I believe I would have knocked on your door and begged you to save his life by tomorrow." She shot him a watery smile.

Stiles returned it, equally watery. "So, what now? What do I have to do?"

She straightened her back, composing herself. "You have to form a mental connection with him to pull him out of the coma. But Stiles, go easy on him, please. What he did was questionable at best, I know, but he meant good. He was afraid of losing you before you even got to know him. It's happened before with other soulmates," she explained but Stiles cut her off.

"I don't need you to make excuses for him." It came out harsher than he intended. He blamed the weariness of the telepathic separation. "I'm sorry, it's just... I don't want to hear this from you, Mrs. Hale." Softer, he added, "I want to hear it from _him_."

She must've heard him because a faint smile flickered across her face. "Then you should go and talk to him."

"How?"

"Like you always have, in your dreams. Just lie down next to him and sleep. This close, your minds won't be able to help themselves but to look for each other. It'll be even easier if you touch him." She smiled hopefully.

Bracing himself, Stiles walked closer and climbed into bed next to Derek in his human form for the very first time. He felt uneasy at the thought of touching Derek after everything so he left some room between them and only took Derek's clammy hand into his. "Will this be enough?"

Mrs. Hale nodded, still smiling encouragingly. "I believe it will." Turning serious once more, she begged, "Please bring my son back, Stiles. We can sort everything else out afterwards."

Stiles simply nodded because there was nothing left to say. Of course, he'd bring Derek back. And depending on Derek, he also had a vague idea how they could sort this whole mess out.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and willed himself to relax so he would fall asleep.

Derek didn't know where he was. It was dark and damp and eerily silent. He was curled into a tight ball on the cold hard floor. He deserved this. For everything he'd put his mate through he'd deserved this and even worse.

There was no such thing as awareness of time in his prison. It could have been minutes, days, or years when he faintly heard someone call his name. He ignored it only to hear it again, a bit clearer than before. It almost sounded like his mate, calling him, but no, that wasn't possible. His mate was far away and most definitely wouldn't want to see Derek ever again. Derek had irrevocably destroyed his chance of being with his soulmate. He'd _hurt_ his soulmate. He didn't deserve him.

As the voice got nearer and nearer, he buried his head under his arm to shut it out. It was bad enough that he was well aware he'd never get to listen to his mate say his name again when his mind wasn't tormenting him by conjuring his voice up.

Apparently, he couldn't block it out completely, though.

"Derek! Where the fuck are you? I can't see a thing in this freakin' hellhole!" 

Next, there was a muffled click and a dim light behind Derek's half-hidden, closed eyes. Was that a flashlight?

Not real. Not real. His mate wasn't here. This wasn't real.

"Ah! So, that worked. Awesome. Now, Derek, where... Oh!"

When something touched his shoulder Derek gave a violent jerk, pulling down his arms in the process. His heart worked overtime in shock as he blinked into the sudden light. It took a while until his eyes adjusted and he could make out shapes. What he then saw was the most perplexing thing.

"S... Stiles?" He gasped, blinking several more times to see his mate more clearly. It was too good to be true. Stiles couldn't really be here. His mind had to be playing tricks on him, right? "Is that... is that really you? Are you real?" His voice sounded rusty, almost raspy from disuse.

The boy was crouching next to him, the hand that had touched Derek retrieved to his side. "As real as you can be in a shared dream. Something you probably should've mentioned when all this started, by the way," his mate added in an accusing tone.

Slowly, Derek sat up, only then noticing the tattered clothes hanging from his body. He was so confused. Stiles was really here? He'd come to him, into his dream? "This is a dream?"

Stiles frowned. "Yeah. What else would it be?"

Shrugging, Derek replied haltingly, "I thought... I thought I was in prison somewhere. For what I've done to you. It's all a bit fuzzy."

"Derek, you're in no prison. You created this place yourself," Stiles explained slowly, almost as if he was talking to a lunatic.

It made sense, though, that it was a dream. Derek didn't remember going to prison or putting on these shabby clothes but his conscious must have figured that this was where Derek belonged. The last thing he could remember before obviously falling asleep and waking up here was lying on his bed in his parents' house, hating himself for what he had done to his mate. His mate who'd obviously decided to at least hear his side of the story since he'd come to him. It was the only explanation for why he had his mate by his side again. He was so relieved! Maybe he could set things right between them again and convince Stiles to give him another chance.

"Come on, get up! Let's go somewhere else." Stiles stood up and motioned for Derek to follow his example.

Not wanting to disgruntle his mate, Derek obeyed quickly and looked on as Stiles designed a new dreamscape around them. When the world settled around him he found himself sitting opposite of his mate in one of the booths of Stiles' favorite diner, the one with the curly fries. Derek recognized the place since Stiles had usually taken Derek as his dog with him when he and the Sheriff had gone there for dinner. Luckily, Stiles had designed him some other clothes as well. He was embarrassed enough about the sight he'd presented his mate with in his dream prison.

Obviously, Stiles had chosen a place he liked and felt comfortable at for their talk. Derek hoped that boded well. Since Stiles clearly didn't take the initiative, Derek figured that he had to bite the bullet. He was a nervous wreck. No messing it up this time. He cleared his throat to buy some time before blurting out the first thing that came to his mind, "So, um, you came?" Internally wincing, he just hoped Stiles wouldn't dump his sorry ass here and find himself someone better versed in conversation after this lame start.

"To save your life, asshole," Stiles retorted, somehow managing to sound both worried and mad at him.

Derek didn't understand. "To save my life?" That didn't make sense. If he was dreaming, then what did he need saving from?

"You're in a coma."

Stiles' words felt as if someone had dumped an ice bucket over his head. "In a coma?"

Stiles nodded carefully.

No. Stiles must be wrong. He couldn't be in a coma. Werewolves had supernatural healing. They didn't just go into a coma, only if they were injured so badly that the body needed all the energy for the healing. Or, his mind supplied, as a result of telepathic separation, but only if the werewolf was fully bonded to their mate. Since it couldn't be the latter, that left him with the severely wounded theory. He'd been in his parents' house when it must have happened. Derek's breath stopped when he became aware of the implications. Oh God, had hunters attacked them? Were the others okay? "My family! Did somebody... What..."

"They're fine, Derek, calm down," Stiles reassured immediately. "They're just worried sick about you."

Derek felt immense relief wash over him upon hearing that his family wasn't hurt. Thank God! He didn't known what he'd have done if something had happened to them. However, he still had no plausible explanation for his current condition. "Then why am I in a coma?"

"Apparently, our bond is already almost as strong as in a fully bonded pair," Stiles merely said without further elaboration, his expression neutral and unreadable.

Derek was stunned speechless. How was that even possible? Even in fully bonded couples this almost never happened. How could it happen to Derek when they hadn't even completed their bond yet? And if it could happen to Derek, did that mean Stiles could lapse into a coma, too? Oh fuck, what if he already had? "God! Stiles, are you..., too?" He couldn't even give voice to his fear.

"No, but last week was no walk in the park for me either," Stiles grumbled with a sour look.  
"I couldn't have felt more like shit if somebody had put me through the meat grinder. Might've had something to do with the fucking king of headaches holding court in my head, not to mention the part of my week where I continuously and silently freaked out about freaking werewolves and mystical bonds."

"I'm sorry, Stiles, for everything. I'm so so sorry." Derek deflated, all energy draining out of him. He was relieved that Stiles hadn't gone into a coma as well and full of self-loathing, because his mate had been suffering because of him, again. 

"Yeah, well, you should be," Stiles snapped, seething. "I mean, what the hell is wrong with you? What were you thinking when you decided to enter my life - if you were thinking at all, huh? 'Oh, maybe it's a good idea to pretend to be a harmless dog and live with my potential mate and spy on him while fucking him in our shared dreams and leaving him in the dark about fucking _everything_!' I don't even know what to feel anymore." He shook his head slowly. "I feel betrayed, Derek, used, ashamed of what we did, what _you_ did to me in my dreams. They were _my_ dreams, Derek, they were _personal_ and you had _no_ right to invade my privacy without asking me and telling me about all this supernatural crap, you gigantic creeper!"

Derek paled. He'd had no idea, absolutely none, that this was how his mate felt about their shared experiences. It made him sick to the stomach. When put like that he really did sound like a total psycho. Maybe he should have put himself in Stiles' shoes and consider his side of the medal before he let his fear of losing Stiles by overwhelming him rule him. At the time, he'd honestly thought it was the best course of action to make his mate learn to appreciate and like both of his forms separately before confronting him with his werewolf heritage.

"I am so very very sorry, Stiles." He couldn't apologize enough times. "I should have thought it through more thoroughly."

"Gee, you think?" Anger poured off of Stiles in waves.

Derek sighed, shoulders slumping. "I really thought I was doing the right thing but clearly I couldn't have been more wrong. It's just... I've heard so much about other werewolves driving their mates away by telling them everything right after finding them. It happened to one of my uncles."

Derek shuddered. When he'd been old enough his parents had told him why they hadn't seen uncle Will, his dad's brother, since Derek had been seven. It had haunted Derek for years to come, still did. There was no doubt that it had had an impact on how Derek had acted. It wasn't the right time, though, to tell Stiles the story of his uncle's passing, not when Stiles' eyes shot daggers at Derek.

"When it comes to our mates we're all instinct, not rational at all. That's no excuse, I know, and I will apologize to you for what I've done for the rest of my life if you let me. I just hope you'll be able to forgive me one day."

There was no response from Stiles besides a calculating look. It made Derek twitchy. At the moment, he couldn't read the boy at all. Stealing himself, he asked the one question that would decide if there was still hope. "Do you think you could? Forgive me?"

The blank expression fell off Stiles' face, leaving him looking tired and vulnerable. "I don't know, Derek. I honestly don't know."

Stiles' words were like a punch to the gut but Derek couldn't actually hold them against him with the way the boy looked right then. Stiles was obviously struggling with his emotions, anger, hurt, and insecurity warring on his beautiful features. Derek hated himself for it. Just, why had Stiles sought him out? The boy was clearly not ready to consider the possibility of a future for them. "Why did you come here then, if you're still so mad at me?" At Stiles exasperated look, Derek hastily added, "By rights, of course."

The sarcasm dripped from Stiles' next words. "Well, actually, Cora asked me very kindly after school..."

Derek interrupted, enraged, "Cora dragged you here against your will? I made them promise, _all_ of them, to leave you alone."

"What were they supposed to do, huh, Derek? Stick by their word and let you die?" Stiles sounded livid.

"At least, then I wouldn't have to face a life without you," Derek shot back, equally furious. A life without Derek sounded like the better alternative for Stiles, anyways. All Derek had brought to his mate's life so far was pain. He was no suitable mate for Stiles. Maybe Stiles had been right and fate had really just screwed them over. Maybe Derek should simply stay here and not come back from his coma. His family would grief, sure, but they'd get over him. If Stiles told them what he'd just told Derek, then their mourning would probably be short-lived and they'd be glad to get rid of a sick creeper like him.

Stiles looked completely taken aback, his expression shifting between disbelief and wrath. "No, you don't get to do this! You don't even get to say things like that! You're not just going to give up, you hear me, mister?" Stiles paused, breathing heavily. "You know what it would mean if you gave up now? That you've given up on me, that I'm not worth fighting for."

"No!" Derek interjected, absolutely horrified about Stiles' utterly wrong assumption. "No, Stiles, you're worth _everything_!"

"Then show me, for Christ's sake! Wake up and fight for me, Derek!" Stiles demanded forcefully.

Derek was shocked speechless. Did Stiles mean it? Had Stiles really just given him a second chance? "Is this... really what you want?"

"Yeah, yes, it is, Derek." Stiles visibly deflated after the words were out. "Look, I want to see where this is going. Right now, you're at the very bottom of my favorite people list. Actually, you're not even on it at the moment and I'd love to kick your ass to the moon with no return ticket. But I don't want to regret not at least giving it a shot. I don't want to wonder if I've thrown away something potentially good in the heat of the moment."

It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted off Derek's shoulders. All the tension that had built and built during their argument drained away and left him feeling boneless. He couldn't believe his luck. Probably no one else that Derek knew would have been so lenient with him. Stiles acted more mature than his age would suggest and Derek felt immensely proud of him and grateful towards whatever entity had decided to make them soulmates.

For a long moment, they simply watched each other across the table, both calmed down after their fight. Derek was well aware that this was a turning point and that he'd do anything to show Stiles that they could be good together. He wouldn't screw it up again. "Thank you," he said in a reverent tone, still amazed about his mate's courage to give them another shot.

"Don't think I'll just forgive and forget, Derek. It'll not be easy for you to win my trust." Stiles looked dead serious.

"Believe me, I know and totally understand," Derek nodded solemnly. "I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that you can trust me."

"We'll only have the minimum telepathic contact required and it'll be at my say. I'll be the one to decide when and how we connect," Stiles went on as if discussing a business contract.

Which they sort of were Derek realized. Stiles was setting the rules for their future relationship and Derek was one hundred percent on board with that since he didn't want to make his mate uncomfortable by doing something he wasn't ready for.

"Absolutely," Derek agreed wholeheartedly. "You call the shots. Whatever happens, whatever becomes of us, is up to you."

The scrutinizing look Stiles gave him spoke volumes of the lack of trust on Stiles' side. When it went on unbearably long Derek said in his most serious voice, "Just you wait and see. I'll woo the hell out of you."

To Derek's relief, his deflection worked and even startled a short laugh out of Stiles. "Right," Stiles snorted. "We'll see." Smirking slightly, he got up and walked to the exit. "Come on. Time to rise and shine, wolfman."

Derek couldn't turn off the pleased smile as he followed Stiles. It really was time to rise and shine. And maybe, maybe it would all work out alright in the end.

The first two things Stiles noticed when he came to were one, he felt as stiff as a board and two, the headaches and the weariness were gone. Ignoring the stiffness in his joints and muscles, his general physical condition had much improved. Huh, obviously, their little telepathic session hadn't only served to wake Derek from his coma Stiles figured when he noticed movement next to him.

Slowly, Stiles sat upright and stretched before fixing his gaze on the werewolf who was watching him fondly. Apparently, their connection had worked wonders for him, too. At least, the guy didn't look like death warmed over anymore, though he definitely looked in desperate need of a shower.

Even though Stiles would have appreciated a bit more time to come to grips with everything he couldn't be too mad about having been thrown in at the deep end. Not when he felt much lighter after their talk - and his little emotional freak-out, admittedly. Of course, there was no guarantee he'd made the right choice but the alternative hadn't felt right at all, so there was that. He would just have to wait and see what lay ahead of them.

Before either of them could utter a single word a voice appeared from the doorway. "Finally!" Stiles looked up just in time to witness Cora's eye roll. "About damn time. Thought you two drama queens would never wake up." And another eye roll. "Mom, dad! They're awake!" She then yelled and Stiles was sure she only did it because she'd hoped to make him jump (she had) because Stiles knew werewolves had superior hearing. What a brat.

Beside him, Derek growled lowly. He seemed to share the sentiment.

"Chop chop! Get up! You two spent the last two days just lying there, relaxing or whatever," she merely went on, completely ignoring their irritated stares.

And what? The last two days? It was Sunday? How did that happen?

In the most gleeful tone Stiles had ever heard Cora added, "By the way, Stiles, your dad is waiting downstairs with the rest of our family. He has looots of questions. Come on, big brother, time to meet the Sheriff while you're not sprouting fur." With that she bounded off, leaving one shocked werewolf and one equally shocked human in her wake. Because what.

"What."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost at the end, guys. Only one more chapter to go. I hope you'll keep your eyes open for the end.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author's notes 1:** About the dubious consent warning: Stiles and Derek share dreams where they have sex but only Derek is aware that it's not just dreams. Stiles might give his consent in the dream but since he doesn't know that Derek is a real person and just as much there in their dreams as he himself, he is in no position to make an informed decision.
> 
>  **Author's notes 2:** To see the sources for the pics I used for my artwork, please just click on the following links: [human!Derek](http://ilarge.listal.com/image/4119042/968full-tyler-hoechlin.jpg), [wolf!Derek](http://images.wikia.com/warriorsfanfic/images/4/49/BlackWolf.jpg), [Stiles](http://8tracks.imgix.net/i/000/676/234/photo-1726.jpg%3Fq%3D65%26sharp%3D15%26vib%3D10%26fm%3Djpg%26fit%3Dcrop%26w%3D521%26h%3D521), [sun](http://www.swpc.noaa.gov/primer/primer_graphics/Sun.png), [moon](http://i.space.com/images/i/15765/original/moon-march-2012-senin.jpg?1331225053), [hand print](http://stepintoyourlight.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/Left-hand-print-244x300.jpg), [wolf paw print](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V1Y5EfMQhq4/SxV_c2ylCdI/AAAAAAAAAIg/1IGy26K1te4/s200/paw%2Bprint.JPG)


End file.
